Treading Icy Waters
by windlily
Summary: The board has been laid out. The pieces have been set and moved. The pawns are scattered across the floor, and Ichimaru's fingers are wrapped around a stark white bishop. "That's another check, little taichou." The game has only begun.
1. Shattered

Alright. This would be my first Bleach fanfic. I have no idea where it's heading or even how it really came to me. It started out with an impulsive decision to describe a moment when Hitsugaya might have felt detached and ended up as some crazy plot to torture the poor guy beyond his physical and mental limits. So please be patient with me, for even I do not know what the heck I'm thinking while writing this.

I'm fairly suspicious the inspiration for this came exclusively from writers like Kellen, BakaBokken, and Jedi Boadicea, all of whom probably have no idea who I am, but all of whom I am in awe of. Despite the fact that they have had no direct influence, something about the way this prologue turned out just seems to scream that they have manipulated it in some fashion. Well, if that really is the case then I hope, at the very least, I did you guys some justice.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its places, characters, or other intricacies. Kubo Tite rules all. And he gets paid for it. That's definitely a plus.

* * *

"_This only is denied to God: the power to undo the past." _

_-Agathon

* * *

_

**Prelude**

Shattered

* * *

It was cold. An unnatural, enveloping cold that numbed the senses, plunging him into a world of hazy truths and etherealities, none of which made much sense and yet somehow felt as if they should have. It was too cold.

This wasn't necessarily a bad thing for the young, white crowned captain. The cold was his life's blood. It was his energy, his motivation, his love, his very being. It fueled him, drove him, to its ends, which were his own ends. He was the cold.

But somehow this wasn't the cold as he knew it. That full-to-bursting feeling crawling tantalizingly across his nose and cheeks as if it were caressing him, leaping from his lips as if to iterate what he himself could not. That powerful force, stopping its enemies and allies alike as it surged onward toward its goal, leaving its signs behind long after it has gone. The cold had always been so fulfilling. It had held within it a completeness, a wholeness. It had kept him sane, that cold. That icy dome of protection he had wrapped around himself and others throughout his life. That spirit.

It wasn't here now. That completeness. This cold that attached itself to him like a bloodthirsty leech was empty, lacking. Dare he say it, hollow. And just like a leech, it also pulled from him everything he knew himself to be. This cold-but-not-cold, it drained him of himself, his essence. His emotions, his passions, his life.

It drained him of his blood.

In an attempt to keep himself from brooding further, he tried to open up his quickly fading senses. It took surprising effort. But finally, though vaguely, he could hear voices through the entangled mists.

Matsumoto's concerned fretting, urging something. She wanted something done, needed it. Immediately. There was no time to spare. "Get him over here, now!"

What was the matter?

Byakuya's solemn apathy. He was pushing something aside; the blame was not his to bear. "He brought it on himself."

Brought what?

Unohana's soft but stern commands. She wasn't sure there was anything she could do. She wanted to know a reason. "Why was it allowed to progress so far?"

What were they whispering about? Or were they yelling?

Abarai's gruff interruptions. He didn't understand what was happening, but he was in the middle of it anyway. Typical Abarai. "What the hell's wrong with him anyway?!"

Why was everyone so upset? Was something wrong?

Ukitake's inquisitive entrance. He was concerned about something, though he was silent about it. Somehow, that silence was so clear it punctuated as if it were a scream.

Something was definitely wrong. What were they talking about? Who were they so concerned about?

Rukia's hesitance matched by Kurosaki's boldness. Why were their voices mixed with those of Seireitei's? They were just as demanding as the others. "I don't know what happened." "Of course, we don't know! He was fine a second ago! Then he just…!"

Who…?

Suddenly, another voice. From another time, another place. Is that…? "Hitsugaya Toushirou. I believe they are speaking of you."

It was.

Hyourinmaru.

"What are you-"

Then it hit him. Everything. Like a bulldozer forcing itself upon his unsuspecting consciousness.

Aizen. Gin. Betrayal. Blood. Hinamori. Hollows. Arrancar. Kurosaki. Matsumoto. Abarai. Rukia. Karakura. Inoue. Blood. Seireitei. Byakuya. Ukitake. Hollows. Yamamoto. Urahara. Shadows. Strangers. Lights. Music. Gin. Poison. Kurosaki. Blood. Arguing. Pain. Hyourinmaru. The Living World. Matsumoto. Secrets. Arisawa. Quincy. Yoruichi. Desperation. Karin. Running. Confusion. Silence. Aizen. Blood. Aizen. Gin. Betrayal. Blood. Hinamori. Hollows. Arrancar. Kurosaki. Matsumoto. Abarai. Rukia. Karakura. Inoue. Blood. Seireitei. Byakuya. Ukitake. Hollows. Yamamoto. Urahara. Shadows. Strangers. Lights. Music. Gin. Poison. Kurosaki. Blood. Arguing. Pain. Hyourinmaru. The Living World. Matsumoto. Secrets. Arisawa. Quincy. Yoruichi. Desperation. Karin. Running. Confusion. Silence. Aizen. Blood. Aizen. Gin. Betrayal. Blood. Hinamori. Hollows. Arrancar. Kurosaki. Matsumoto. Abarai. Rukia. Karakura. Inoue. Blood. Seireitei. Byakuya. Ukitake. Hollows. Yamamoto. Urahara. Shadows. Strangers. Lights. Music. Gin. Poison. Kurosaki. Blood. Arguing. Pain. Hyourinmaru. The Living World. Matsumoto. Secrets. Arisawa. Quincy. Yoruichi. Desperation. Karin. Running. Confusion. Silence. Aizen. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Bloo-

_The game is almost over, little taicho._

Hitsugaya bolted upright into a sitting position, pupils constricting into near nothingness within his alarmed but alert icy blue irises. The real world, composed of three dimensions, colors and shapes, instead of hazy mists and fragments of disembodied conversations, peered overwhelmingly back at him through the clear but painful vision his migraine was oh-so-charitably offering him.

The others were a ways away, whispering intensely amongst themselves, no doubt trying to find complete answers by combining the bits and pieces the light haired shinigami had offered each one in turn throughout the past few weeks. Kurosaki though, was a little farther to the left of the group, trying his hardest to look uninterested in the quarrels that were excluding him. And so as luck would have it, as it seemed it always did in Hitsugaya's case, the redheaded delinquent happened to be the first to notice he was awake.

"Oi! Toushirou! Great! I thought you might've died!"

"It's Hitsugaya-taicho!" the boy angrily shouted, ignoring the pounding in his head and the pains in his abdomen as he forced himself to his feet.

This was a very bad idea. The moment his bloodstained, bare feet had the slightest ounce of pressure exerted upon them, all hell broke loose within the young prodigy's body. White hot flashes of pain seared through his every nerve simultaneously. His mind reeled in the agony. This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He could no longer focus, no longer try to understand. His infamous genius had abandoned him days ago. All he knew now was the never ending torture that was currently wreaking havoc upon every inch of his dilapidating flesh, inside and out.

"Toushirou! Oi! Oi! Toushirou!"

"What is he doing on his feet?! He could kill himself!!"

"What the hell is going on?!"

"For goodness sake! Somebody please get him off his feet!!"

The Tenth Division Taicho grasped his head instinctively, even though his entire body was in pain. It felt as if his very bones were melting. His eyes were being gauged with knives. His eardrums were exploding. His throat was lodged by a million tiny needles. His muscles were bursting. His skin was rotting away. Every internal organ within his body was being eaten alive.

And yet somehow they weren't.

_Wow. This is more fun than I thought it would be._

"EEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"


	2. Open and Close

This is the longest chapter I've ever written for any of my stories. Ever. It also took the fewest days to complete. And I enjoyed every minute of it.

Nothing else much to say really. Enjoy.

And review. I like it when people do that.

* * *

"_What I give form to in daylight is only one per cent of what I have seen in darkness."_

_M. C. Escher_

* * *

**Chapter One**

Open and Close

* * *

When had it really begun, the youngest of the Gotei 13 wondered. There were many points in time which could be considered as the beginning. There was the very first time he had met Aizen Sousuke, when the man had still held a higher rank than he. There was the decision to have the younger Kuchiki executed, the moment that man's plans finally set into motion. There was his fight with Ichimaru Gin, the moment the two of them established themselves as true enemies. There was his utter and complete defeat at the hands of Seireitei's betrayer, when he first had a taste of his growing doubts within himself. There was his first step into Kurosaki's classroom, the battles they shared with the Arrancar, and Hinamori's plea to redeem her former taichou. 

But, he firmly decided, those were really all just foreplay. They composed only the overture to this epic. And this epic was merely a stanza within the entire compilation. The best place to begin was probably when he had been summoned back to Seireitei from the human world, after Inoue's capture.

Which was exactly what he believed it to be. A capture. Although Matsumoto had definitely connected far more effectively with the eager high school girl than her taichou, Hitsugaya had seen enough of Inoue in the time spent on her property to understand that she was no defector.

However, orders were orders. As the head of the Tenth Division, he had no choice but to follow through with them despite the bad taste they left in his mouth. Disobeying them would only result in a far worse taste. Besides, he had noted Abarai's and Rukia's attempt to slink away unseen after they had reached their intended destination. As long as they weren't stupid enough to charge into Hueco Mundo and demand Inoue back from Aizen's Espada, they would be fine.

The young taichou groaned, massaging his temples in aggravation. That was exactly what they would do.

"Is something wrong, Taichou?"

Hitsugaya released his fingers from his forehead and looked up over the various stacks of papers and reports littering his desk. Apparently, there had been a lot going on in his absence. And no one had been generous enough to tackle his workload for him. It appeared his third seat had tried his hand at it, but had lost the battle before it had begun. The rate at which the urgent forms came in was just faster than the rate at which he could fill them out and have them distributed. It wasn't his fault though. Even Hitsugaya could barely keep up with this nonsense. And his fukutaichou suddenly bending over his inbox, buxom breasts only inches from his nose, wasn't helping all that much.

"Your monster chest, perhaps?" the boy grumbled as he tried to back as far away from her infamous extremities as possible.

"Ah yes, the wonder twins," Matsumoto grinned wryly. "Both a blessing and a curse, I tell you."

"Blessing or curse, they do not belong in my paperwork."

"Aww, you're so mean, Taichou," the blond whined as she stood up straight once again, wagging a sealed envelope accusingly at her boss. "I came in here just to check up on you, but you have to be all antisocial just in case, heaven forbid, someone actually sees you being remotely friendly."

Hitsugaya frowned, drumming his fingers on what little desk was not covered in paper. "And what would you possibly need to check up on me for?"

Matsumoto's playful mood seemed to vanish instantaneously. She slowly lowered the envelope, running her free hand through her wavy tresses. A single sigh escaped her lips before she once again found the courage to look her taichou in the eye. "Have you … seen Hinamori yet?"

A sudden rush, a slamming sound, papers flying, and Hitsugaya was on his feet, fists melting into the soft wood of his desk. Matsumoto wasn't sure what to do at first. She had never seen him quite so out of sorts when it came to the Fifth Division's fukutaichou. And here she had merely been worried that he'd be brooding. She had not expected any sort of physical reaction. It just wasn't like him...

"Taichou…"

"I'm going for a walk. Alone."

And that was that. Hitsugaya Toushirou walked quietly out of the room, without even a backwards glance.

Matsumoto watched him go, not able to bring herself to follow him. Exhaling, she turned away from the door and back to her boss' desk. There were all the papers, files, reports, a seemingly endless mountain range. Pouting, she stomped over to the desk, plopped down in her taichou's chair, and began determinedly sorting through the mess.

"He had _better_ appreciate this."

* * *

Hitsugaya stepped cautiously out into the courtyard behind the Tenth Division Head Quarters. He did not particularly want to run into anyone at the moment. His teal-green eyes cast down on the cleanly cut grass as his sandals pressed it down into the dirt, he made his way toward the fountain in the center. 

In a hearty display of pride, the fountain had been emblazoned with the Tenth Division insignia, the Narcissus flower, long before he had come to head it. It really was a beautiful fountain, he had to admit. Its shape was nothing special, simple in design and material, but when water was added into the equation, every inch of it shimmered in the moist atmosphere. Each drop of splayed liquid was crystal clear, and it transferred that clarity to the fountain itself. In all honestly, it looked as if it had been carved from water itself and that its lavenders, blues, and greens were only illusions of a nonexistent solidity.

He sat down on the ring surrounding it, peering into the swirling shallowness.

Yes. Of course, he had. As soon as he had been able to, he had gone to see her. But…

"Hinamori…"

* * *

She needn't even open the door. She knew exactly who was on the other end. But she was still hesitant to let him in. 

Unohana-taichou had seen much of what had transpired between Hitsugaya-taichou and Hinamori-fukutaichou since Aizen's betrayal. Most of it had ended badly. She knew very well that it would be worse to refuse the boy entrance, but seeing that expression punctuating his young features again was not something she looked forward to.

It was her professional opinion that Hitsugaya was a very capable taichou. It was also her professional opinion that as such he placed too much upon his own shoulders. There was only so much a little boy could handle, genius or no.

With a sigh, she slid open the door.

It was, indeed, Hitsugaya-taichou.

"Unohana-taichou," he let slip, as if caught by surprise that it had been her to open the door for him. "I would … er … Is Hinamori…?"

"She is fine. Her wounds have long since healed. That is not why we keep her here," the head of the Fourth Division replied as sympathetic as she could muster.

"I understand," he nodded, averting his eyes. "Where…?"

"I'll direct you there."

The two Gotei 13 heads trudged on silently for a moment before the older woman stopped in front of another sliding door, much more private than the sickbeds they had passed on the way. She stepped to the side as she slid the door open so as to allow her companion to pass though. Once he had entered, she closed the door behind him.

The room was plain and, for the most part, empty. Hinamori sat pensively upon the sole piece of furniture: a bed. She didn't look up until the door behind her childhood friend had shut completely. Her eyes were still rather bloodshot and the telltale signs of insomnia had in no way released themselves from her haggard face.

The accumulated moist that appeared to have been hastily smeared across her cheeks told him she had been crying.

"Hitsugaya-kun."

"Hinamori."

She smiled, though it was so thin it was nearly invisible. The smallest of chuckles embraced her lips. "You're back from the living world?"

Hitsugaya managed a little grin of his own. "We arrived yesterday. There wasn't much ceremony to it, which is probably why you haven't heard."

"Did you hear anything about Aizen-taichou while you were there?"

He stiffened, grin dissipated. "No," he lied resolutely. "Only the Arrancar."

Hinamori's smile began to twist into an accusing, disbelieving smirk. "You're not even going to _try_ to help him, are you? No one is," she mumbled softly as she turned away from him, staring down at her colorless bed sheets. "As soon as you find out how, you're going to kill him." She spoke this last addition surprisingly coldly, matter-of-factly. That was how Hitsugaya addressed people, not Hinamori. Hinamori was warm, gentle, caring, to a fault even. Hearing her use that tone hurt him just as much as the actual words.

Eyebrows furrowed, teeth clenched, he couldn't help but release some of his frustrations upon her. He did not want to talk about Aizen; he did not want to think about Aizen. Not right now. Not with Hinamori. Not again. "Yes, we are. That bastard deserves it more than anyone else I know."

Hinamori's accusing eyes now met his own once more. They were amazingly defiant considering her personality and current circumstances, yet they also shone with desperation. "I know what everyone thinks, I know what it looks like, but I know Aizen-taichou better than anyone and-!"

"No, you don't! Everything he was, all of it, was just one, big lie! Aizen used you! He used all of us!"

"I know!" she hollered back, her voice hoarse. "I know. But … Aizen-taichou … He … I … He wouldn't do this without a good reason! I know he has a reason!"

"Yeah, to kill us all! Is that a good enough reason for you?!"

"Hitsugaya!" Her voice was cracking now, as tears flowed anew, though the anger in her tone was unmistakable. But angry or not, the passionate scream brought Hitsugaya back to his senses. He stood there silently as Hinamori's vat-of-chocolate eyes stared him down, tears rushing unbidden down her pale cheeks. He couldn't believe his lack of self-control. It was stupid, childish. It was inexcusable.

He had crossed the line. He hadn't done that in a long time. And yet, a growing part of him felt he was somehow in the right. He did not like that part. At all.

"He needs me…" the now deathly quiet voice of his oldest friend, and enemy, whispered through hands clasped helplessly to thin, chapped lips. "Aizen-taichou needs me."

Hitsugaya still hadn't finished berating himself for his outburst when he heard the broken whispers. He couldn't take much more of this. Neither her faults nor his.

"It's obvious which of you needs whom, Hinamori," he replied just as quietly though void of the frantic emotion of his companion. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do." He slid open the door and was just about halfway out of the room when he heard her again, voice now more desperate than ever.

"Hitsugaya-kun, please-!"

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou," he interrupted with a grimace before shutting the door behind him, just a little bit harder than he had intended.

For a while he didn't move, not an inch. He had to question whether he was even breathing. His hand was still firmly set onto the edge of the door, his body still facing in the opposite direction. He could hear loud crying from the other side of the thin wall.

His hand involuntarily balled itself into a fist.

Aizen was a dead man. And Ichimaru and Tousen would not be far behind.

* * *

Slowly, cautiously, lift one eyelid. Hitsugaya frowned, opening his eyes completely. He was looking up at the Tenth Division's courtyard fountain. _Had he really just fallen asleep on the edge of a fountain?_ Hastily, he jumped to his feet, turning left and right while silently praying no one had seen him. As soon as he deemed that he was truly alone, he marched toward the division's headquarters and his personal office. 

_How long had he been out?_ he wondered. The sun was just now setting. That meant he had been sleeping for at least four hours. He quickened his pace.

What he found though surprised him more than any sort of insane, work disrupting parties he had imagined his fukutaichou throwing to smite him for leaving her alone with the paperwork. Matsumoto was asleep at his desk, a half-empty bottle of sake gripped loosely between her fingers. This really wasn't all that surprising unless you considered the fact that she actually had the room to lay her head down on the desk.

The endless stacks of papers had diminished considerably for the estimated two to three hours she had actually worked on them. He sighed, removing the bottle from her hand. If she had been drinking, he would have to recheck the last few reports, making sure to erase any random curse words or otherwise insulting profanities she might have scrawled into the margins. A small, slightly amused grin crawled unbidden to his lips. At least there was one person in this world he knew he could always count on.

To do what, he was never really certain. But he could count on it getting done.

Opening a closet near the door, he produced a blanket and draped it over his fukutaichou's shoulders. It was as close to "thank you" as he was willing to get at the moment. Making sure not to wake her, he silently grabbed one of the few remaining stacks of papers and hauled it into a corner. Thanks to Matsumoto's efforts, he'd probably be finished in a few hours.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been working for more than twenty minutes when his door was forced unceremoniously open by a panting, rankless shinigami. By his generally muscular stature and rough appearance, Hitsugaya guessed he was probably from the Eleventh Division. He looked perplexed at seeing Matsumoto at her taichou's desk. He didn't even seem to notice that Hitsugaya was in the room. Matsumoto's eyes flitted open, and she lifted her head to glare at the intruding shinigami for interrupting her nap. Or it could have just been a hangover. She didn't seem to notice her taichou had returned either. This served to irritate him a bit. But just a bit.

"Yes…?" This caused both the out of breath shinigami and Matsumoto to jump in surprise and turn toward the Tenth Division head who was currently standing next to a pile of paperwork in the far corner of the room. Matsumoto seemed to notice the blanket laid out across her shoulders for the first time. "You do have a reason for barging in like this, right?"

The shinigami hastily stood up straighter and performed an awkward salute. Seeing as Hitsugaya in no way remembered such a salute being appropriate, he chose to ignore it as the man took one last deep breath.

"Ukitake-taichou asks that you come to the Thirteenth Division Headquarters immediately! Arrancar have been spotted in Rukongai!"

In the course of what the shinigami swore couldn't have been more than a single second, the white haired boy grabbed the finished papers, stuffed them into the shinigami's hands, and was out the door. Hitsugaya could hear Matsumoto apologizing as the shinigami wailed about not knowing what to do with it all. _Yup, definitely Eleventh Division._

"Matsumoto!"

And she was next to him in an instant.

"I can think of very few reasons for Aizen to send Arrancar to Soul Society, and none of them are good."

His fukutaichou nodded as they rounded on the Thirteenth Division HQ.

"You had better be ready for anything."

Another nod, this time accompanied by a small smirk at her taichou's sudden commanding tone. It was a far cry from his recent moodiness.

Perhaps this little distraction wasn't quite so bad, after all. As they say, every cloud has a silver lining. Right?


	3. Unnecessary Interaction

This chapter was a little awkward for me to write. I've never been all that great with fighting scenes. Or Kenpachi. I hope it worked out all right. If it didn't, feel free to tell me so. I'd love some tips.

Also, I could not for the life of me keep track of all of Yachiru's nicknames for everyone, or even if she gives them to everyone. So I just chose nicknames I thought might fit. She will not be calling Hitsugaya "Shirou-chan" however. The way I see it, that nickname belongs to Hinamori, and as much as she annoys me at the moment, she really does deserve at least that. So "Shirou-chan" shall stay as Hinamori's and Hinamori's alone within this fanfiction. After all, it really isn't her fault that Aizen is an antagonistic, deceiving, no good pile of –

Ahem.

So anyway, enjoy.

* * *

"_Truth sits upon the lips of dying men.__" _

_Matthew Arnold_

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Unnecessary Interaction

* * *

Ukitake-taichou dropped the pen he had been writing with, turning his head awkwardly to the side, staring wide-eyed at nothing in particular.

_What had that been?_ It had felt faint, not because it was small or weak but because it was a ways away. Beyond Seireitei's walls. It had not quite matched the feeling of a normal hollow nor had it been the easily recognizable signature of a shinigami, though it had been far too strong to be an average soul. And it had appeared out of nowhere. He could hardly believe what few possibilities came to his mind. None of them were rational. And none of them were pleasant. Hastily bringing himself to his feet, he headed for the door and slid it wide open. A Hell butterfly met him, jerking slightly in its flight toward his door as if it had been released suddenly and unexpectedly from its small cage to a much larger world it hadn't quite fathomed as of yet.

He would have bet his haori that that was the case. Though not in the literal sense, of course. Gambling was strictly Kyouraku's area of expertise.

The Thirteenth Division head mentally scolded his wandering mind. _Now was not the time._

"Ukitake-taichou, you told us to report anything we found to you immediately."

He nodded gravely as if those on the other end could see him. "Don't tell me…" It appeared his theories hadn't been quite as irrational as he had thought.

"We have detected the reiatsu signatures of two Arrancar and a large number of hollows gathered at the edge of Rukongai! There have been no casualties as of yet, but that is only because they didn't arrive in a rural area. It's only a matter of time before they get to one! Also-!"

"Ukitake-taichou!"

Said shinigami sighed at the interruption. Sure, when Yamamoto-soutaichou had asked him to take over his duties when he had decided to devote himself completely to the Central 46 and other unspoken but obvious issues, he had been just a little flattered and certainly more than willing. Now though, he understood why the soutaichou had not wanted to deal with them. It was just one thing after another….

"Yes?" he asked as the rugged shinigami ran up to his door. "What is it?"

"It's Kenpachi-taichou! He's … He said he felt something really good and just ran off into Rukongai!"

"That is what we were just about to tell you, Taichou," from the ebony butterfly. "Kenpachi-taichou is currently en route toward the Arrancar."

Ukitake didn't need to be told. He could feel the surge in that fight-crazy man's reiatsu, burning with excitement, as it soared through the districts of Rukongai. He frowned as he tried to assess the situation. Kenpachi was all well and good, but he lacked experience when it came to the Arrancar. He was a fairly recent addition to Gotei 13 headship, compared to how long most of the others had been stationed, and had never had the chance to gain that experience. Most of the other Division heads who might have experience in the field were immersed in their own preparations, save one who had only returned to Soul Society the day before. _Perfect._

"You," Ukitake pointed to the huffing shinigami, "Please call Hitsugaya-taichou to my office immediately."

* * *

It was not long afterward that Hitsugaya Toushirou released himself from his shunpo directly in front of the open door to Ukitake's office, Matsumoto Rangiku less than a second behind. The sickly taichou allowed himself the luxury of a minute grin at the sight of Hitsugaya's fukutaichou, whom he had technically not asked to come. Seeing those two together, the love-hate relationship masking their deep loyalties, somehow reminded him of Kaien. Kaien and Rukia. Kaien…

The grin hastily shoved itself down his throat as the seriousness in his fellow taichou's voice ground him back to reality. "You wish for me to make sure they do not reach the districts."

It was a statement, not a question. So he had sensed them as well. It wasn't as if they were all that unnoticeable, after all. They seemed to be making no attempts to hide their presence in the forests skirting the edges of the rural districts. Either they were far too cocky or they knew something he didn't. It didn't really matter though. He had no choice but to make absolutely sure they were obliterated with as few casualties as possible. Ukitake nodded, but he noticed Hitsugaya hesitating, something he had certainly not been doing moments before.

"Is something wrong?"

"Of course not," the young boy replied quickly. "I was just curious. Kenpachi-taichou should be able to handle two Arrancar of that caliber single handedly. And seeing as he has veered completely off course, I assume that his fukutaichou is already with him." The humor within his own words was entirely lost on him.

"So why exactly were you summoned?" Ukitake finished for him. "_Should_ no longer holds any weight around here. We need to be absolutely certain that they are destroyed. Also, I must admit I am not entirely set upon placing my full faith in his renegade reiatsu." A hint of a smile lit his features before it was bowed away by a cough.

Hitsugaya nodded once his superior's fit had calmed, though he still seemed the slightest bit reluctant. Ukitake wondered whether it had to do with something more than Zaraki's involvement. He resigned himself though, to merely call out a simple warning as the Tenth Division head began taking his leave.

"It may be wise not to appear before Kenpachi-taichou until absolutely necessary."

Hitsugaya couldn't suppress a grimly amused sneer as he and Matsumoto hastily soared into Rukongai. _Let Kenpachi realize he had been sent back up? Now, _that_ was something he would _never_ do willingly._

* * *

Despite Kenpachi's detour, he arrived at about the same time as Hitsugaya and Matsumoto. The two of them quickly alighted in two separate trees, thankful for the leafy cover. It would provide the same advantage for the hollows, but at least they would be safe from one monster in particular.

Rangiku looked down at said monster as he charged through the hordes of hollows, blowing away anything that escaped his zanpakutou simply with his infamous reiatsu levels. She had to admit, it was a lot of hollows. Even as Kenpachi-taichou obliterated them two or three at a time, more seemed to be constantly arriving. Perhaps the portal was still open somewhere. That did not bode well. But that aside, she was surprised at how weak they were. Any shinigami, even fresh from the academy, would have been able to defeat one or two of them on his/her own. If Aizen was really behind this all, she wondered skeptically, why would he put so much effort into placing quantity over quality when he had accumulated enough Espada to contend with nearly all of the 13 Division heads?

She debated whether or not to point this out to her taichou, but decided that he had probably already considered it. Pushing away the foliage just enough, she turned her attention away from Zaraki and the hollows and on to Hitsugaya. His expression troubled her. He looked perturbed by something, oceanic eyes flitting frantically across the battlefield below, the rest of his body eerily still. It took her a moment to realize what he was searching for, but when she did her eyes widened, jaw slightly askew. Hastily she too turned back to the hollows. Kenpachi, with Yachiru on his back yelling some sort of blissful, gory chant, surrounded by row after row of hollows.

_Then, where…?_

Where were the Arrancar?

* * *

Hitsugaya had felt uncomfortable since Kenpachi had come so close. He was making no attempts to hold back any of his reiatsu, and that was messing with the younger taichou's senses. It was as if the Arrancar had disappeared. He couldn't see them anywhere, and try as he might to filter through Kenpachi's reiatsu, he had yet to sense them. 

Kenpachi's fukutaichou wasn't helping his concentration any. She was shouting at the top of her lungs, one arm waving in the air, for all the world sounding like a kindergartener cheering on her dad during a father-daughter sports outing. "Kill 'em, Ken-chan! Murder 'em good! Kill, kill, kill, kill! Kill, kill, kill, kill!" And when she got tired of that, it moved on to blood, beat their brains out, slimy guts, chop them into itty, bitty pieces, various other internal organs, and now, something about little, dirty birdie feet. He had no idea where that last one came from.

She just wouldn't quit. In fact, she only seemed to get louder, faster, and higher pitched the further she got through the unimaginative but very gory lyrics. He could literally feel the vein bursting in his forehead. He grit his teeth, grinding them together painfully in an attempt to keep his mind off her aggravatingly repetitive chants.

"You look … annoyed."

Hitsugaya could feel his shoulders tense, but he did not move. He did not even turn around to face the Arrancar that he was absolutely positive had just jumped up onto the branch behind him. He allowed the feel of the creature to leak through his senses, and he confirmed what he had believed when he had first sensed the two Arancar's presence. They couldn't be much more powerful than Shawlong Qufang had been. That meant that even a fukutaichou should be able to defeat at least one of them easily. But it also meant they should be strong enough to understand the difference in strength, as Shawlong had so clearly been able to do. The young taichou's frown hardened.

"Mildly," he answered levelly.

The Arrancar chuckled a little. Hitsugaya ignored it to the best of his abilities, allowing his eyes to gravitate toward Matsumoto. She was gripping Haineko's hilt as if her very life depended on it, staring at him determinedly, daring him to ask her to charge. It didn't look like the Arrancar had noticed her, and he did not want it to. When she acknowledged his gaze, he shifted it pointedly down at Kenpachi and the rest of the hollows. Frowning unapprovingly, she reluctantly let go of her blade and returned to searching for the second Arrancar, though he could still feel her steal a meaningful glance in his direction. When the white crowned taichou was sure his fukutaichou would not make a move, he finally turned around.

The Arrancar was not exactly what he had been expecting. He had yet to meet a female one and had begun to wonder whether they even existed, and yet here, right before his eyes, she stood. Her strange, white uniform was form fitting and tight, with a fair many well placed rips and tears along her joints as well as some less strategically placed ones revealing about as much of her chest as Matsumoto did when she wanted a stranger to buy her another round of drinks. In fact, Hitsugaya had to wonder whether even Matsumoto would be hard pressed to show so much skin unless she had a chance to be rid of paperwork forever. All in all, it wasn't a very positive first impression.

"You're really interesting. I think I like you," she (He supposed he couldn't refer to her as an "it." Not after seeing _that_ chest.) spoke up with a hint of her earlier chuckle remaining. "You're a _whole_ lot cuter than that lunatic and his little, pink pet down there."

He couldn't help it. He twitched. "I. Am. Not. Cute."

Yet another chuckle. "Aw. Don't deny it. It'll only stress you out more. And too much stress'll give you lots of ugly wrinkles."

He took a deep breath, standing up from his crouch. The effect wasn't quite as dramatic as he had hoped it would be. "Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"Right to business, then," the Arrancar grumbled, hands on her hips. "You may be cute, but you're no fun at all."

Hitsugaya did his best to stay perfectly calm, to not let anything slip. Nothing at all. Something was not right. One word was all it would take, and his bankai would finish her in seconds. She must know that. She must have been able to see that from the very beginning. Yet she was so informal. There was not the slightest trace of fear or even concern in her mannerisms. His icy glare bored into her irritated lavender. He would not destroy her until he got some real answers. Finally, she gave in.

"Well, if you're gonna be so rude about it, I'm here as a messenger on behalf of Tatsujin-sama."

The Tenth Division head had absolutely no idea who "Tatsujin-sama" was. None of the past Arrancar he had faced had referred to Aizen in that manner. But he would leave that question for later. For now: "And what message were you sent here to deliver?"

The playful smile that had adorned her lips morphed into a very familiar, very deranged smirk.

"'Welcome back to Soul Society. Don't go dyin' too soon now. P.S. Look out for your pretty fukutaichou-san.

Jamata, for now, Juubun-taichou-san.'"

Hitsugaya's eyes widened considerably and his complexion paled. There was no more question about it. There was only one man he knew who addressed him in that way, only one man who harbored such a carefree kansai accent used so antagonistically. He knew exactly who had sent these Arrancar. And he did not like the odds this information presented. Especially when it came to that P.S.

Then, as if on cue, the reiatsu of the second Arrancar suddenly became crystal clear. It was nearly on top of Matsumoto. This was no time to worry about exposing himself to Kenpachi. Stealth was no longer an option.

"Matsumoto!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, charging past the female Arrancar toward his second-in-command. "Get down! Now!"

* * *

As soon as the very first syllable of her name had been pronounced, Matsumoto had become alert to the new presence. Unlike the first Arrancar, this one was male. He was lithe and lanky, his standard uniform flying behind him in fringe-like wisps as he lustfully jumped down to meet her, zanpakutou clashing with zanpakutou. Sparks flew and, with a grave smirk, she pushed Haineko forward, propelling herself backward until she fell directly in line with her taichou.

Both landed forcefully on the ground below, not ten feet from Kenpachi-taichou.

Matsumoto could hear Yachiru finally break in her singing as she jumped up from Zaraki's back to the top of his head and pointed enthusiastically in their direction. "Mite, mite! Look, Ken-chan! It's Chibi-chan and Ookii Ookii!"

Kenpachi's gaze shot menacingly in their direction as she gave a rather sheepish wave. Hitsugaya didn't even turn to acknowledge him. Instead, he continued to glare the other way as the two Arrancar hopped down to meet them. Matsumoto sighed. She had a bad feeling she knew what was coming.

"You little runt!" the Eleventh Division head shouted angrily at her taichou. "You stole my targets from me!" And without wasting a second of time, he abandoned the hollows and ran, zanpakutou ready, at Hitsugaya. The young boy was just as quick as he was though, jumping into the air to avoid the downward swing and landing to the raging man's side.

"Kenpachi! If you want to kill me, do it later! _After_ the Arrancar are destroyed!" he scolded, the bitterness in his voice only strengthened by its coldness.

"He's right, you know. It's no fun if you fight _each other_. Than what was the point of our coming here in the first place, ne?" The female Arrancar's lips had molded back into their former mischievous grin, that playful smirk that told Matsumoto she knew something that they didn't.

She did not like that grin. And she was doubly bothered by how it seemed to affect her taichou. Did that Arrancar tell him something? Did he know what was going on? If that perturbed expression on Hitsugaya's face had anything to say about what was happening, Matsumoto knew it would not be a pleasant evening.

* * *

Hitsugaya needed a way out of this mess. Zaraki was a good ally to have in this sort of situation, but that kind of advantage was currently being hindered by his anger at having been sent help. Hitsugaya was not particularly thrilled at the aspect of having another man on his list of people out to slaughter him. Did everyone in this sorry world want him dead? _No_, he told himself, the irony of it all almost too much for him to handle. _Not everyone. Just all the ones strong (or insane) enough to actually go through with it._

"Kenpachi," he heard himself whisper gratingly, "I want this over with as fast as possible. Truce?"

"Only if I get _him_," Zaraki answered firmly, gesturing toward the Arrancar who had yet to say a word but whose blood-shot eyes, shark-like incisors, and Kurosaki-sized zanpakutou Hitsugaya guessed had sparked his fellow taichou's morbid curiosity.

Just before Hitsugaya could agree to his terms though, the female took a step forward. "Nuh-uh. We can't have you doing that just yet. You big, scary shinigami outnumber us two to four! First, we need a level playing field."

And with that, the Arrancar's companion put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Hitsugaya had never heard a sound like it, save one. The halting cry of a hollow. A hollow calling other hollows to it. His body tensed as he whirled around, vaguely noticing the others do so as well before the hordes of hollows all converged on one spot. Theirs.

He had no time to call the name of his zanpakutou before they were on top of him. In fact, he barely had the time to draw Hyourinmaru from his sheath. It was fairly easy to fend them off at first, but he lacked Kenpachi's untouchable reiatsu and therefore had nothing to keep the slowly rising numbers at bay but his blade. Therefore, calling on his shikai or bankai would leave him vulnerable, if even for an instant. He didn't want that as long as the Arrancar were unaccounted for. If he could just find one of them through Kenpachi's radiating bloodlusts, he would end this nonsense. He had no time to deal with this; he had much more pressing matters on his mind at the moment.

Like why _he_ had sent these messengers. There must be a deeper reason. The message itself sounded as if it was only there to be the icing on the cake. It had only warned him of the second Arrancar. It hadn't given any pertinent or lasting information except who was behind this mess. And all that information did was leave him wanting more.

Hyourinmaru lashed out again and again, almost automatically now, as Hitsugaya's sight fluttered constantly to and away from the battle at hand, jumping this way and that to avoid the hollows in front only to meet others behind. This wasn't exactly the best choice of strategy, but with the others as well as the Arrancar out of sight, he could think of no other way. Soaring back into the tree cover, he entered shunpo in order to cover more ground faster. There was Kenpachi, that one wasn't hard to sense. Yachiru was still a minute blotch on top of him. That left Matsumoto… She was a short ways ahead.

"Looking for your girlfriend?"

Two hollows, three, hour, five. None of them were small. More were following him. This aimless running was getting him nowhere. But now, at least, he had time enough to call upon his blade. A sardonic smile adorning his lips, he held out his zanpakutou.

"Set upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!"

* * *

A sideswipe, a frontal thrust, a jump into the air punctuated by a clean cut through a bleached mask before a soft landing in yet another tree. That was three more down, but they just kept multiplying. Hitsugaya wasn't sure how long he had been doing this. It felt like ages, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. This was grunt work. It only took a single swipe to finish them two, three at a time.

Then, as if to mock his very thoughts, one of them, a particularly ugly thing with a flat head composed of almost nothing but mouth, jumped onto his back, clawing at his haori. Angry at his lack of attention, he hastily tore off the traditional clothing, hollow and all, and tossed it out of the tree. The hollow immediately let go, looking for something to break its fall. With an indifferent grunt, Hitsugaya launched himself after it, thrusting Hyourinmaru into its skull in midair before landing.

He landed well enough as any skilled shinigami could. It was not the landing that was the problem. The problem was what landed on him.

"Miss me, cutie?"

He felt the sudden pressure on his shoulders right as his face met dirt. Apparently not as up to wasting time as she had been before, the female Arrancar was just able to thrust something sharp and painful into his back before he could force her off. She landed lightly to his left as he stood up straight, wincing slightly.

He had no doubts that the scorpion-like tail protruding from just above her posterior was the released state of her zanpakutou.

"What was that?" he breathed, teeth clenched.

There was that awful chuckle again. "A gift."

Hitsugaya felt his throat constrict. It wasn't from his wounds. "From who?"

"From Tatsujin-sama, of course." Her widening grin only served to confirm what he already knew to be true. "From Gin-sama."

He had already figured it out from the message. He had already known. But actually hearing the name finally sparked the match he had been so meticulously keeping under lock and key. There was no turning back now. The match was aflame.

"Bankai!"

He flew forward, aiming Hyourinmaru directly at the Arrancar's stomach. But if he had been expecting any reaction from her, it was most definitely not what he received.

As he closed in, inches from her stomach, she was laughing.

She was laughing.

"Ryuusenka!"

Blood spewed from the wound as her upper body lunged forward from the pain he knew her to be experiencing. A pain he intended for her to experience. The unrelenting, unforgiving ice flowed from Hyourinmaru, instantly encasing her before she shattered into a thousand frozen shards before him.

Slowly, stiffly, he released his bankai and sheathed Hyourinmaru. In the same steady fashion he bent down to pick up his haori. He winced at the slight rush of pain that shot through his backside as he did so, but caught himself before he did it again when he stood back up.

He looked over at the spot where the Arrancar had been obliterated, still littered with the bloody fragments. He felt the unrealness of the entire situation wash over him like a wave. The Tenth Division head sat down rigidly, still staring unseeing at the vacant spot before him.

_She was laughing._

* * *

End Chapter Two.

* * *

Hello again.

I used just a little more Japanese in this chapter than in the last. I don't tend to do that too much, but I do think that certain things in the original Japanese just need to be preserved. Like names. So I thought I might try sticking a little bit of an English to Japanese index sort of thing down here. Hope it helps.

**Tatsujin** – a master or expert

**Jamata** – see you later; goodbye

**Juuban-taichou-san** – the way Gin addressed Hitsugaya after Hinamori and Kira fought; something along the lines of "Tenth Captain"

**Mite** – look (or so I've been told)

**Chibi** – small; runt; dwarf

**Ookii** – big (I'm sure you can guess what Yachiru was referring to.)


	4. Interrupt Homeostasis

I hope I was able to pull Gin off well enough. It's getting a little hard to have him seem so evil when I'm actually starting to get to like him. He's going to have an interesting role in this story, I'll tell you that.

Anyway, enjoy. I sure did.

* * *

"_Wastes of Lives—resown with Colors  
By Succeeding Springs—  
Death—unto itself—Exception—  
Is exempt from Change—"_

_Emily Dickinson_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Interrupt Homeostasis

* * *

Hitsugaya did not question the fact that no hollows intruded upon him after his final bout had ended. It was obvious that the Arrancar, especially the male one, had been controlling them from the start. If he had been able to defeat the female, then surely Kenpachi had defeated the other by now.

The boy forced himself to stand up once again, shaking that last image of the Arrancar from his mind. It would not do to dwell on the psychology of the insane. It would only serve to worsen his steadily increasing headache.

Kenpachi seemed to have calmed down for the most part. He didn't have to concentrate quite so hard to locate his companions this time around anyway. Kusajishi was still planted on Kenpachi's backside, rather more like a convenient outgrowth than a fukutaichou in Hitsugaya's opinion. Those two hadn't strayed too far from where they had encountered the Arrancar originally. Matsumoto, on the other hand, was hastily making her way in this direction from quite a ways to his left.

He felt rather than saw her crash down into the foliage beside him. It wasn't a very graceful landing, but he wasn't exactly one to talk at the moment.

"Taichou!" she called as she strode the last few feet's distance between them.

He looked up at her for a moment before turning away irritably. Getting stabbed in the back sometimes did that to a person. Not that he'd ever admit to succumbing. "I dealt with it. Kenpachi must have defeated the second one by now as well." His frown deepened slightly at his wording. So she was back to an _it_ then. He supposed it was just easier that way.

Matsumoto nodded. Just once. Then she froze.

This earned her a questioning glare from her taichou as he slowly turned to face her once again. "What?" he asked impatiently.

"Taichou! Your back!"

"What about it?" he hissed.

Hitsugaya watched contemptfully as Matsumoto opened her mouth to reply, but before anything more could actually be said, they were interrupted by a far more trying voice. He would have rather argued hours with Matsumoto than have to deal with _her_ at the moment. Unfortunately, life had a bad habit of ignoring his preferences.

"Ookii Ookii!" came the high-pitched shout as Kenpachi stepped into sight, and Yachiru jumped off his wide shoulders in order to latch herself around Matsumoto's waste. "You guys were gone so long! And I didn't get to see you when you got back! Yachiru missed you!"

"I-I missed you too, Yachiru-chan, but right now I'm trying-"

"Woah! What happened to Chibi-chan?!"

Hitsugaya tried his best not to show his annoyance. He had hoped that Kusajishi would at least distract Matsumoto long enough for him to cover the wound, but now there was absolutely no chance of that. Well, he might as well make the best of the situation; he was stuck with it now. He'd just make sure that he did not flinch, especially with Kenpachi around, and find out what had them so irrationally interested in a little gash.

"It's just a stab wound. I don't see why you're making such a fuss over it," he grumbled to Matsumoto.

"That was a stab wound?" his fukutaichou spat back. He had to admit the look of utter disbelief on her face had him interested now.

"It's so weird!" Yachiru suddenly called out from behind him. He whirled around to face her, frowning. "It's all black and funny! And there's not even a drop of blood!"

Was that … _disappointment_ in her voice? Hitsugaya pushed the thought aside. Frankly, he didn't want to know. He had heard enough about his wound for now and did not want anyone prying any further. Prying may lead to questions which may lead to answers that he wasn't ready to give yet. Once he was safely situated between the other Gotei 13 heads and their direct subordinates, looking anywhere except at his own fukutaichou, he would be able to relay the information he had learned, but he would not … could not do it now. He could not tell her if he had to see her expression.

_Ichimaru…_

"Poke!"

Hitsugaya's world was flipped upside down as he was forced from his thoughts into a reality of blinding, ear-splitting pain shooting up his backside by the convenient means of his spinal column. He just managed to halt any exclamation that may have forced itself out of his lips by twisting jerkily around and jumping backward, away from the small, disastrously curious fukutaichou. Wincing as he did so, he stood up to his full height once more, glaring Yachiru into the ground.

_So much for not flinching…_

"Never do that again," he hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

Either constant exposure to Kenpachi's killing intent had given her complete immunity or she had interpreted Hitsugaya's bloodlust as something else entirely because not a second after she received his infamous death glare she giggled and jumped back up onto Kenpachi's back, clinging to his haori blissfully. "Ken-chan! Yachiru found Chibi-chan's angry button!" she cheered happily as Kenpachi sent the young taichou a demeaning smirk.

Hitsugaya did his best to ignore the duo as he once again donned his haori, covering up the strange wound in a silent but obvious demand that the subject be closed. Apparently, no one was listening to his demands today, spoken or unspoken.

"Taichou…" he heard Matsumoto's concerned tone trail off as she approached him once more.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. But…" Her voice had changed from concerned to stern. And now it was becoming disturbingly playful. "I'm sure it's nothing that a relaxing and peaceful night of keeping ourselves warm under a single kotatsu in loving embrace wouldn't fix."

Hitsugaya distinctly felt his cheeks rise dramatically in temperature. "Fine. I'll go visit Fourth Division. _After_ I finish the paperwork," he acquiesced, suddenly very interested in a rotting tree that just happened by pure coincidence to be sitting in the exact opposite direction of Matsumoto's grinning face.

* * *

The walk back was uneventful for the most part. Hitsugaya and Rangiku had muttered to each other a bit every now and then, and Yachiru had peeked over his shoulder a few times to point out the scenery, but otherwise it was quiet. Kenpachi didn't mind though. It wasn't as if he had much to say.

The Arrancar had been disappointing. He had expected something a little more challenging. Then again, ever since his battle (because it was much more than just a fight) with Kurosaki Ichigo even the strongest of opponents had seemed only average. Oh well, he'd just have to wait for these Espada to show their cowardly faces. Then he'd finally get a thrill.

Speaking of thrills, the burly taichou turned his head and looked down his shoulder to better see his equal in rank (if slightly lacking in the category of stature). The Tenth Division head was a fairly interesting guy, Zaraki had to admit. But he was also far too uptight and prudent for Kenpachi's tastes.

Usually he was very particular about the amount of reiatsu he'd reveal to any given person. In fact, his intense discipline in that area was downright secretive. He held in every once of pressure he could muster until a situation came that made its release absolutely necessary. But right now, Zaraki could sense a steady flow easing from the boy's body. It was not quite enough reiatsu to filter for emotion or motivation, but it was certainly enough to notice. The battle-worn warrior grinned as he turned away.

Maybe the little punk was finally starting to lighten up a bit.

* * *

Hitsugaya stared angrily down at his pen. He wanted to break it in half. He wanted to toss it in a shredder. He wanted to freeze it, then watch it shatter into a million useless pieces.

This, he knew, was what Matsumoto often referred to as "misplaced aggression." According to his fukutaichou, she was his usual target, but today she was a part of what was frustrating him and so the brunt of the blow fell upon his brand new ballpoint pen.

For the first time in decades, Hitsugaya could not concentrate on his work. There were just far too many issues floating about his thick skull for him to focus on a report chronicling the lack of high quality perfume within Seireitei, submitted by the ever-vigilant Shinigami Women's Association earlier that morning. Not only did he have a splitting migraine, but he was having serious problems controlling his reiatsu. He hadn't really noticed it until Kenpachi had made a snide joke on the matter, something about testosterone or the like. Hitsugaya hadn't found it funny. But if even someone like Kenpachi who was utterly ill-versed and uninterested in sensing reiatsu was able to see the difference, then that meant there was definitely something wrong. And it also meant that nearly everyone else had to have noticed by now as well.

Then, of course, there was the issue of Ichimaru Gin, the reason Hitsugaya had yet to give in to Matsumoto and visit the Fourth Division. He knew he would have to go eventually, but he had been waiting for her to finally settle down into her regularly scheduled nap on the couch situated in the center of his office before he did so. He had an inkling Unohana-taichou would want answers that he didn't wish to bring up in front of his fukutaichou just yet. But today, of all days, just had to be the day that she decided to actually do her work.

_Figures._

Rereading the same passage for the umpteenth time, the frustrated taichou leaned his head down on his free hand. Then pulled it away in shock. He stared down at the hand, wide-eyed and disbelieving. What had _that_ been? His frustration now evolving into a serious curiosity, he lifted his fingers to his forehead once more, this time forcing himself to keep them in place for about five seconds. When he removed them they were bright red with blood rush.

His forehead was burning his fingers.

Hitsugaya was certainly stubborn, but he was not stupid. He knew when he was beaten. With a sigh, he set down the pen and stood up. Matsumoto watched him, one brow cocked in what might have been amusement. He frowned agitatedly at her before stepping out from behind the desk.

"Alright, alright. You win. I'm going," he huffed rather hoarsely.

She smiled, laughing as she too got up and nearly bounced over to her taichou, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You see? That wasn't so hard, was it, Taichou? Taichou?"

But Hitsugaya didn't respond. He couldn't. The last thing he remembered was his knees collapsing out from beneath him just before he retched all over his fukutaichou's shihakushou.

* * *

The Tenth Division head awoke to a world of nothingness. Literally. There were no walls, no ceilings, no floors, nothing at all. He didn't even know what was holding him up. It was as if he were simply floating in air. But even air did not seem to exist in this place. Cautiously, the prodigy stood up, surveying his current situation. What to do when you wake up in a mysterious, alternate dimension? Apparently he had skipped that class at the Academy….

He was forced from his sarcastic musings rather suddenly by a foreboding shift in the atmosphere. Hastily, he reached for Hyourinmaru but was stunned to realize he was not there. There was nothing strapped to his back. Even the gentle hum that always alerted the boy to his zanpakutou's presence had vanished.

He was truly alone. But not for long, he frowned.

The person responsible for the ominous shift was coming ever closer, and soon Hitsugaya could hear the soft, steady footsteps and make out the unsettlingly humanoid silhouette. The wretchedly familiar grin did nothing to assuage his growing fear, confusion, frustration, or rage. But decades of practice were not about to fail him when he needed them most. The white haired taichou watched stony faced as the man came within mere feet of him.

"Ichimaru," he practically growled.

Gin's smirk only seemed to grow in malevolence even though he hadn't moved a muscle. "Hitsugaya-kun. It's been a long time, ne?"

"What do you want, Ichimaru?"

The man sighed in mock playfulness. "Really. There's no need t'be so cold. We're old friends, after all."

It took everything Hitsugaya had not to strangle him right then and there. "Answer me."

"Entertainment."

Now that threw the boy off completely. He didn't know what exactly he had been expecting, but he was absolutely sure that this wasn't it. Entertainment?! _Entertainment?!_ Hitsugaya glared into those forever squinting eyes, just daring Ichimaru to continue.

He obliged. "You'da thought what with all those ryoka chargin' in head first, things would'a been more interesting. But it seems the Espada's got everythin' covered. That leaves me 'n Tousen with nothin' to do. So I thought I'd send off a few presents fer my favorite little taichou."

Hitsugaya couldn't believe the words that were spewing from the former Third Division head's perpetual smirk. The hollows had been sent solely to get at him? What the hell was he trying to say?! Ichimaru's goal was to play a game with him?! What nonsense was that?! It made no sense! None at all! It was…

Hitsugaya bit down on his bottom lip. Hard.

_It was just the sort of thing Ichimaru would do._

"Well, if you're done with your stupid games, I'm leaving," Hitsugaya hissed, not trusting himself to open his mouth too wide for fear of completely losing the discipline he had worked so hard to drill into himself all these years.

"But the game hasn' even started yet, little taichou."

He had known this was coming, had known that somehow, someway, it was destined to come to this. But still Hitsugaya felt he was suffocating. The few options he had left were all crumbling out from beneath his very feet. He could no longer pretend, no longer delude himself or avoid the subject. It was here to stay, and he had no choice but to stand here and discover the consequences of his carelessness. The Arrancar. The scorpion tail zanpakutou release. The strange wound on his back.

"Poison."

Ichimaru Gin's eyes opened just a fraction, his childish grin widening. "Yup."

"Get on with it then." The coldness with which he spoke the words would have sent goose bumps spiraling up any lesser man's neck. But, despite what many people thought of him, Gin was no lesser man.

"If ya insist. It does two things. First, it leaches off'a yer reiatsu. You've prob'ly noticed that by now, ne? An' second, it stimulates yer body's pain receptors." Hitsugaya did not like the sound of that at all but still did his best to keep up his poker face, fists clenching and unclenching systematically as he did so. "Basically, yer body feels like it's dyin' when it's not. And when it gets too bad … boom. Yer brain shuts down, and no more shinigami."

"So you're going to sit back and watch me die." Hitsugaya was very aware of Hyourinmaru's absence. He could feel it in every word he spoke, every movement he made. But he would not show it. Never. Not in front of this man.

"Naw. What kinda game would it be if we already knew who'd win?"

"And how is it possible for me to win in such a situation?"

"Well, if ya stay in Soul Society, you'll only have abou' three days at most, but if ya go down t'the livin' world, 'cos of the differences between 'em, you'll have up t'a month or two."

"A month or two. To identify the poison and create an anti-toxin, right?" Though Hitsugaya phrased the sentence as a question, both present knew it needed no answer. "That would be no hard task for Kurotsuchi-taichou or Unohana-taichou. There must be more to it than that." One who didn't know Hitsugaya may have interpreted this statement as acceptance. It was far from it. He was challenging the man before him.

Apparently this pleased him because his smirk widened once again. "It's untraceable 'til the very end, so even if they believe ya, they won' be able t'help ya. And without evidence, none a'them c'n go t'the livin' world with ya anyway. But at least when they take a look at yer corpse, they'll realize you weren' insane after all."

"And all of this … because you have a little excess of free time?" The incredulity of the accusation was masked by the seriousness with which the white crowned boy voiced it.

"Ara, ara. It's a game, remember? Have fun."

* * *

"Taichou? Taichou? If I told you I wasn't wearing a bra, would you wake up then?"

Oh, hell. He had left one insane world only to return to another.

"Shut up, Matsumoto," he croaked as he reached a hand up to his head. It didn't feel quite as hot as before, but it was still feverish. That meant he still had at least some time left. He would have to figure out the best way to use that time….

"Hey now! You barf all over me, pass out, make me carry you all the way to Fourth Division, and then tell me to shut up?! You really are the meanest, cruelest, slave-driving taichou in all of Seireitei! Why I oughta…!"

Trying hard to disregard the fact that Matsumoto had carried him here, he tuned out her ranting and took a moment to get a hold of his bearings. He was in one of Fourth Divisions private rooms often reserved for higher ranking patients. No one else was in the room with him besides his fukutaichou. His frown deepened, keen eyes watching as she paced frustratedly back and forth, fuming away to her heart's content.

Decades of dealing with his fukutaichou had done more than just emotionally scar him. He had learned more about her in the short time since he had been promoted than he had learned about anyone else in all of Soul Society, including Hinamori. He pulled himself sorely into a sitting position, taking in her expression. She was pouting as she ranted, her arms stretched across her chest, pushing up her nearly exposed breasts (a gesture, he had come to believe, she perpetrated entirely for that very effect). Her eyebrows were furrowed viciously, her cheeks flushed. She looked positively irate. But her eyes fluttered about the room, never really looking directly into his own.

She looked people in the eye when she was mad at them. It was the people she really cared about that she couldn't meet face to face.

_She was worried about him._

"Matsumoto…" he managed barely above a whisper.

She immediately ceased her verbal tirade. "Yes, Taichou?"

_She was worried about him._

"I told you to shut up."

_He could not have that. Not right now._


	5. Sayonara Starry Skies

Alright. windy's got a bit of a question that she hopes can be answered. Are they Hell Butterflies or Hell Moths? I've seen it both ways, and I no longer know which is which anymore.

Other than that, this was an interesting chapter for me. Lots of character interaction. I'm both proud of how I did and also wondering whether I was really able to keep everyone in character. This chapter was also heavily influenced by Lifehouse music, particularly the song "Come Back Down." You should definitely listen to it. -hint hint wink wink-

So ... here goes nothing.

* * *

"_There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.__" _

_George Carlin_

* * *

**Chapter Four**

Sayonara Starry Skies

* * *

Hitsugaya cursed. And he cursed again. And again. And again. And again.

Matsumoto wasn't quite sure how she should be reacting to her taichou's strange behavior. He had asked how long he had been out, she had answered. About five or six hours; it was early morning now. He had asked if Unohana-taichou was available, she had answered. No, but Kotetsu-fukutaichou was. He had asked if he could take a look at the wound on his back, she had answered. No, it had already been healed.

And so everything seemed to have come full circle, with Hitsugaya standing in front of a full-body mirror through which he was now staring at his brilliantly healed backside while uttering profanity after profanity under his breath.

Kotetsu Isane herself was standing in the corner of the room looking utterly distraught. Matsumoto had watched as her fellow fukutaichou had poured her heart and soul into healing the ghastly wound as best as was in her power, and Hitsugaya's response was beginning to border on downright insane. Not to mention rude, uncalled for, irrational, and very, very unlike her taichou. In fact, it was even a little frightening. Why, in heaven's name, would he be angry that he had been _healed_? It made absolutely no sense … unless he knew something that he wasn't telling anyone else.

An image of his perplexed expression as he stared, pale and wide-eyed, at that Arrancar came back to her, and she shifted uncomfortably. He had been even more stubborn than usual when it had come to the mysterious wound. Could something really be wrong?

The thought finally provided the courage she needed to stomp over to him, grab him roughly by his bare shoulders, turn him forcefully around, and slap her hand onto his forehead. Well it wasn't burning her hand this time around, so Kotetsu-fukutaichou's work had certainly been effective. But it still felt rather feverish. Whatever was wrong would have to wait until he was well enough to handle it, she decided. And she would be the one to make sure that it did.

"Matsumoto…" came the deep growl from beneath her slender fingers. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like, Taichou?" she huffed as she felt her own forehead to compare the two temperatures. Yes. Definitely feverish. "You're still nothing but an ungrateful, little kid. And your fever hasn't died down yet. You shouldn't be running around demanding mirrors from innocent passers by. You should be in bed."

"You sound like my mother," he grumbled in reply, obviously none-too-pleased by the _little kid_ accusation, before removing her hand from his head.

"Hmph! I'm much too young and beautiful to have brought a bratty, little taichou like you into the world. Maybe when you finally grow up a bit, you'll be able to understand that," she grinned maliciously. Of course, she was expecting some sort of witty or aggravated counter. Something like "You're already an old bat, so how will that change when I get older" or "I doubt a few years of extra paperwork will do much for that so-called beauty." She was even going through different responses in her head to make sure she was ready for whatever he threw at her.

For all the retorts she had prepared however, she could never have been ready for what she actually received.

There was no counter; Hitsugaya didn't speak a single word. Instead, he looked at her with such a pained expression that Matsumoto swore she heard her heart crack within her chest. She had seen that expression, distorted from all his attempts to hide it, once before, when Hitsugaya, looking down at Hinamori's comatose body, had asked her whether she believed the Fifth Division's fukutaichou would ever wake up again. Before she could find the voice to say anything about it though, she and her taichou were interrupted by a struggling Isane.

"Anou… Excuse me. I'm sorry if I made a mistake in the healing. If there's anything I can do…" she mumbled as she bowed, her tone somewhere between accusing and guilty. She must not have been able to hear what they were talking about and assumed they were discussing whatever she had done wrong to make Hitsugaya curse so.

And when the aforementioned, cursing boy seemed to notice Unohana's fukutaichou for the first time, Matsumoto couldn't suppress the lightest of smiles despite the situation. Hastily, he returned the bow. "No, I apologize for my rudeness, Kotetsu-fukutaichou. As is obvious, you did a wonderful job. I'm sorry if I made you believe that your competence was what troubled me. Far from it. I'm just a bit out of sorts at the moment."

"Of course, Hitsugaya-taichou. I understand," the tall, silver haired woman replied, spirits lifted. "You should probably take it easy today. After all, you've only just returned and already you've fought against another Arrancar."

Then something happened that once again threw Matsumoto completely off tier. Her own amused grin was matched perfectly by her taichou as he nodded to Isane and turned to look up at her. "Matsumoto. Could you please inform the division that I'll be taking some time for myself today? But if they really need me for something, I should be easy enough to find."

Matsumoto nodded to show her acknowledgement. Then, she left. She didn't know what else to do. She had seen Hitsugaya fake many, many things during their time together.

But never before had she seen him fake a smile.

* * *

Once Matsumoto had left, Hitsugaya turned back to Kotetsu, all traces of his earlier smile evaporating instantaneously. "Kotetsu-fukutaichou, I have a question."

When she nodded, though her expression was slightly confused, he continued. "Did you get a good look at the wound?" Another nod, a large frown growing along her lips. "Have you … ever seen anything like it before?"

However confused she may have looked, she now answered as if she had expected the question all along, lifting a bent finger to her mouth to bite inbetween sentences. "No, I haven't. It really had me worried so I sent Unohana-taichou a Hell Butterfly, but she never sent it back. After a couple of hours, your fever had gotten so bad that I finally had no choice but to go ahead with it. She still hasn't returned. And she probably won't for another day or two."

Hitsugaya nodded, taking in every detail. "Do you know if Kurotsuchi-taichou is available?"

Her eyebrows furrowed at the name before she shook her head. "No, he isn't. He and Nemu-san left just before you arrived from the living world."

Another nod, this one accompanied by a sigh. "Alright. Thank you."

"Hitsugaya-taichou…" she began as he started to leave, but he shook his head and she trailed off, watching him walk out the door.

This was not good. The two shinigami in all of Soul Society that just might have been able to help him were out of contact. Although it wasn't all that surprising, as six of the ten remaining Division heads were in the same position, it was certainly vexing. Yamamoto-soutaichou may have known something simply because he'd been around for so long, but he had locked himself up in the Central 46 Chambers. That left only one person Hitsugaya could think to ask for help. And to ask that particular person, he'd half to play along with Ichimaru's little game and leave Soul Society for earth. It seemed like an easy decision. Leave or die, for good this time.

But it wasn't.

Leaving Soul Society now would place him on the same level as Aizen. The only difference (and the sad truth) being that even if Hitsugaya actually did harbor ill intentions, he was no real threat. And if the very implications of that weren't bad enough, he knew at least one other thing was sure to happen.

He would lose his headship of the Tenth. And he may never get it back.

But if he was going to live to destroy Aizen and Ichimaru, especially Ichimaru, he would have to forego all pride and honor for the time being.

With that sobering thought in mind, Hitsugaya began to plan his next few steps. Ichimaru had failed to mention any information on whether time spent in Soul Society would take time away from his precious few months in the living world, so he would have to act fast. He had no time to draw out preparations and no need to either. There was only one thing he really had to do.

But there were plenty of other things he _wanted_ to do.

And that, as if cued by the single most antagonistic director to ever walk the earth, was exactly when he saw the door to Hinamori's room ahead of him. Slowly, meticulously, he walked toward it until he was only inches away. Twice now he had seen her since she had awakened. The first time had been hard enough to endure. The second, he had finally crossed the line. He had let all of his frustrations – his near defeat at the hands of that Espada, his allowing Inoue to fall into Aizen's grasp, his being called back to Soul Society due to yet another failure - out on one of the few people he actually cared about in this life or the last. His hand pressed against the smooth door. He could not risk a third time.

"Sayonara … Momo," he whispered, watching his hand slide down the door's surface until it fell limply back to his side.

"Sweet dreams."

* * *

When Ukitake Jyuushirou heard the soft knocking at his office door, he knew it would be a lie to say he wasn't anxious. He had sensed Hitsugaya's flaring reiatsu long before the boy had actually made it to his door, and he knew that whatever reason he would have in coming here, it would not be a particularly enjoyable one. Not if he wasn't taking any measures to hold in that quaking spirit pressure.

"Come in," the older man intoned, his voice slightly hoarse.

Hitsugaya complied, slowly opening the sliding door and inching into the room. Ukitake took notice, frown deepening, as the boy made sure to close the door behind him.

"Ukitake-taichou," he began, his voice sounding as weary as Ukitake's own, "I'd like to ask for a favor that I am not entirely sure I can return."

This was it, the Thirteenth Division head sighed. "What might you need, Hitsugaya-kun? You know very well you don't need to return anything."

"May I…" the boy hesitated, pausing a moment before finally continuing, "…have one of your division's Hell Butterflies?"

Ukitake was speechless. A Hell Butterfly? Why didn't Hitsugaya just use one from his own division? It wasn't as if they were in short supply. And what would he need one for right now anyway? The last he had heard, the boy was taking what basically amounted to a sick day today. He had certainly not issued any missions since the two Arrancar.

It took quite a while before he regained his voice. "Why would you need a Hell Butterfly from my division?"

Hitsugaya's neutral expression flickered for a second, but he hastily turned to the side before Ukitake could identify it. "You are … the only one I can ask right now," he answered, taking time to search for the right words. "The only one whom I can both trust … and can trust myself with … in this situation."

The sickly taichou watched his guest a moment longer before he resigned himself to the boy's request. No matter how strange or disconcerting Hitsugaya's behavior was, he was sure there was good reason for it. Hitsugaya was not Aizen. He wasn't perfect enough, and for that, Ukitake was truly grateful.

"I won't ask anymore questions," he intoned as he slowly got to his feet, looking purposefully down at his fellow "Shirou-chan" with a melancholy smile. "I trust you as well. I just hope you understand what you're getting yourself into."

"Thank you, Ukitake-taichou."

He shook his head at the thanks. "It will be waiting for you behind the Academy, the third field."

* * *

Hitsugaya had to admit that he did feel a little relieved. He hadn't been sure that Ukitake would consent to his abnormal request. But he couldn't hazard taking one of his own division's Hell Butterflies. If anyone saw him, the information would be sent straight to Matsumoto, and she would chase him around relentlessly until she knew what he was using it for. She would probably be expecting something ridiculous like a secret love message or something along those lines, but no matter what she may be expecting, he could not have her around when he left. Because she'd most definitely follow him.

As the very first rays of sunlight began to peak over the horizon and he neared the Academy, he felt a familiar reiatsu heading in his direction. Only four of the ten division heads were present in Seireitei at the moment. Kenpachi and Ukitake he knew were no where near here. That only left…

The dignified aristocrat came quickly into view, hands folded into his sleeves and white kenseikan reflecting the fledgling sunlight. His pristinely apathetic expression faced directly forward, over Hitsugaya's head, giving the correct perception that the man did not particularly care that his fellow taichou was there at all. His posture was dangerously erect and overwhelmingly tense, as if the slightest bending of his spine would snap it in two. The boy had to wonder whether it was his reiatsu that had Kuchiki-taichou acting even more elitist than usual or whether it was something else entirely.

The two shinigami passed each other wordlessly, without even looking at each other really. But even if he didn't say anything, Hitsugaya's mind was mulling itself over the enigma of a taichou.

Despite his self-righteously noble exterior, Hitsugaya had been rather interested to hear how far the man had gone to protect his adopted sister, Kuchiki Rukia, from Aizen's wrath. It had, for the first time, placed the head of the Kuchiki clan on a level that Hitsugaya could identify with. Even he had the need to protect those he most cherished; even he could not remain neutral when there was something amiss in his world. These musings had since evolved into a sort of unspoken respect for the man, outside of his rank or social status.

This respect was what finally convinced him to pause in his trek.

He turned around to face Kuchiki's retreating back, the black six upon his haori waving slightly in the cool morning breeze. "Kuchiki-taichou," he began, staring hard into that six, "About Abarai and Rukia…"

As soon as the names left Hitsugaya's lips the man stopped, but he did not turn around. The white crowned taichou took this as the man's way of telling him to go on. "They're alive, for the moment. I thought you might appreciate the knowledge. I take full responsibility for whatever may happen to them."

A short but meaningful silence followed before Kuchiki began walking once again. "Very well. Do as you wish," was all he said.

But when the man's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, Hitsugaya could tell that it was enough.

* * *

Hitsugaya finally made it to the area Ukitake had indicated. The Academy was usually crowded with many young shinigami-in-training, but one particular spot, far in the corner of the third training field, was almost never used. It had once sported a fair many trees and a luscious blanket of green grass, but that had all changed when a small group of overzealous students had burnt nearly the entire field to a crisp with a bit of badly aimed hadou.

It didn't take long for the small, ebony butterfly to flutter gracefully into his line of vision and alight upon his outstretched finger. It bore a message of two words, directly from Ukitake-taichou.

"Good luck."

Hitsugaya sighed just a little affectionately. Luck, eh? Well, he supposed as he once again sobered himself, he was definitely going to need it.

* * *

Matsumoto stretched drowsily as she opened the door to her taichou's office. There was no one there, as she already knew, but sometimes this was just the best place to lay back and relax. When a person enters an office with no intention to work, it just seems to make the whole place feel more welcoming. Especially that comfy couch.

For all her worrying and for all Hitsugaya's strange behavior, in this room, nothing had changed. Nothing ever did. It was perhaps the one place in which she knew nothing ever would.

There was still quite a bit of paperwork. While her taichou had been out with his fever, someone had seen to it that their workload was increased by at least fifty percent. Hitsugaya had been here for a short while about half an hour ago, but it had been far too short a time to get started on any of the reports.

It was nice that he was finally taking a much deserved break, but honestly, he could still do at least some of the paperwork, right? Heaven knew Matsumoto wasn't about to. And surely he knew that as well. It was against everything he stood for to come in here and not do work. If he ever did something like that, he'd groan his little groan, glare into her eyes, and declare he was turning into her. Then, he'd no doubt stomp out of the room to get some tea to calm his nerves. But he had done none of these things. He had merely sat down at the desk, scrawled something hastily onto a piece of paper, and then walked right back out without even glancing at her.

Thinking back to it, Matsumoto found herself rather curious. What had he been writing anyway? What if it was…?

_Oh my._

A mischievous grin curled up the corners of her lips as she walked over to her taichou's desk. On top of one of the stacks of paperwork was a scribbled note. She picked it up, made sure that Hitsugaya's reiatsu was far, far away, and began reading.

It was short, to the point, and utterly devastating. Matsumoto's pale eyes widened as she hastily read it again, just to be sure it said what she thought it said.

It did.

Jerking around, she searched frantically for Hitsugaya's exact location. The third field behind the Academy. She dropped the note and ran out of the room, entering shunpo as soon as she was outside.

The note fluttered slowly to the hardwood floor.

"Matsumoto, I still expect all of the paperwork to be turned in on time during my absence, even without me around to constantly baby sit you."

* * *

Hinamori Momo stirred from her sleep, woken by a vaguely familiar feeling. Rubbing her eyes and yawning softly, she stood up and slowly walked to the door of her room within the Fourth Division compound. Placing her thin, pale fingers against the door's surface, she suddenly recognized it.

The young woman turned around to look out the window facing the Academy, her weary eyes beginning to wash over once again.

"Hitsugaya-kun…"

* * *

Ukitake-taichou watched the boy disappear through the portal from a fair distance away. A soft sigh emitted from his thinly lined lips.

About twenty yards behind him and to his left was Kuchiki-taichou's distinct reiatsu. He could just barely see the man in the earliest morning rays, eyes focused on where Hitsugaya had been only moments before and arms folded across his chest noncommittally. So even he had succumbed to his curiosity, the old shinigami mused, looking back as his fellow taichou nodded his head once to the newly vacant area and began walking back to his own division.

Just as soon as he had left however, another reiatsu appeared as it hastily released it shunpo beside him.

"Rangiku-chan," he managed with unbidden surprise.

"Where is he?" she demanded, her voice barely more than a whisper. The sickly taichou knew full well that she already knew the answer.

None-the-less, he looked her directly in the eye; this was not a question that he could dodge. "I'm sorry, Rangiku-chan. He's already left."

* * *

_November 30, 4:37 AM – Hitsugaya Toushirou's reiatsu disappears from Soul Society._


	6. Sugar Skull

I'm having serious alliteration issues with these chapter titles.

Anyway, it's come to my attention that a few people may be a bit confused with why Hitsugaya would go through so much trouble to get a Hell Butterfly from Ukitake in order to avoid Matsumoto and the rest of his division when he had left a note for her anyway. Well, think about where he left the note. _On his paperwork._ He didn't expect her to see that until he was _long_ gone.

Another fairly long chapter. Urahara so stole the spotlight.

_

* * *

_

"_I show you doubt, to prove that faith exists.__"_

_Robert Browning_

* * *

**Chapter Five**

Sugar Skull

* * *

Hitsugaya cautiously surveyed the area he had stepped into. He was currently on top of a fairly tall building, in no way a sky scraper but at least a few stories up. Probably a hospital if that giant billboard portraying a busty woman in a nurse's dress to his right had any correlation. Well, a hospital or a cosplay club. Hitsugaya decided to go with hospital.

The boy released a heavy sigh before turning to face the little butterfly that had taken him here. It would not do to have contact with Soul Society; they would just be forced to drag him right back. Procedures were procedures, after all. And if that meant he'd die in a waiting room, then so be it.

Hence the fact that he had left.

He reached out his hand once more, allowing the ebony insect to land. He then proceeded to kill it. Static erupted in his ear like a radio transmission hitting interference. Then silence.

"Gomen," he muttered softly as he set the remains down on the roof top.

Now that that was over, he had other business to attend to. The white crowned boy closed his eyes and scoured the city for reiatsu signatures. The strongest signature was being emitted a fair distance behind him. But there were a few other large clusters he took note of for future reference. One, he was fairly sure was Kurosaki's house. The red head had mentioned that nearly his entire family was spiritually aware. But the other … he wasn't so sure about. Perhaps he'd check it out later. For now though, he dove from the building rooftop to another and another, making quick time toward the greatest cluster.

Whatever difference Ichimaru had been referring to between Soul Society and the living world was, thankfully, beginning to take hold. He was surprised to feel his fever die down and his pounding headaches dull themselves into nonexistence. He was even able to control his reiatsu to an extent, holding in just enough so that he was once again comfortable.

Comfortable; the word struck Hitsugaya as an awkward description of his current state, seeing as nothing had really changed. He was still trapped within a life threatening game of wit and luck. Wit, he could handle. Unfortunately, luck had never been quite as abundant. This was best illustrated by the fact that he was dead.

Pushing aside the unwelcome sarcasm seeping into his thoughts, he could only hope that this person could really help him. Otherwise…

No, he told himself harshly. There was no otherwise.

The large amount of reiatsu had been a ways away, but Hitsugaya came upon it quickly enough. He could sense quite a gathering inside, but he had no room in his mind at the moment to wonder why that might be. Instead, he was focused on the building itself, staring disbelievingly from across the street.

The infamous founder of Seireitei's Research and Development Department and former head of the Twelfth Division now ran a sweets shop.

_Urahara Shoten._

Hitsugaya just about gave up all hope then and there.

He didn't know what else he could do though, so he did what he was best at. He steeled his resolve and focused on the facts.

He had heard plenty of rumors about what the man had done while still a part of Soul Society as well as what he done to help the ryoka follow after Kuchiki Rukia, and he knew very well that if he could qualify for headship of the Gotei 13, Urahara Kisuke had to be talented in some aspect at least. What finally pulled him from his inertia were not the rumors however, but what he had seen for himself the very first time he had laid eyes on the ex-shinigami. That man had single-handedly taken on the Tenth Espada without a serious injury to his name. He spoke and acted, as far as Hitsugaya had seen, like an egotistical moron, but if he possessed the skills and abilities Hitsugaya was sure he did, than perhaps he was one of the few men who actually lived up to that ego. Either way, Urahara really was his last hope.

A prominent grimace embedded into his lips, he pushed open the door and walked inside. The first thing he noticed was the vast amount of teeth-rotting, eye-gouging sweets and candies surrounding the walls of the store in a disturbingly colorful symmetrical alignment. The second thing he noticed was the teenage girl behind the counter, who was now staring intently at him. Or maybe just at his hair and shihakushou. He could never really be sure.

"This place is closed right now," she grumbled, clearly annoyed but with something or someone other than him.

He was sure he had seen the girl somewhere before, though it took him a moment to place her. Her dark, boyishly styled hair and brown eyes warranted no particular reaction, not here in Japan. What finally brought him to recognize her was the high school blazer she wore, the very same one he had worn during his last stay in the living world. She was one of Kurosaki's classmates. Arisawa Tatsuki, one of Kurosaki's closer friends and one of the few who hadn't exhibited any large scale spiritual awareness due to exposure to the shinigami representative's perpetually spilling reiatsu.

Seeing as she was looking directly at him however, that apparently was no longer the case.

He groaned. "Just great. Another one of Kurosaki's mutants."

This caught the girl's attention as Hitsugaya swore he saw her literally flare. "Hey, you punk! Just what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?!"

"It doesn't mean anything," he grunted resignedly, lifting his hand to cradle his forehead. "Listen. I know Urahara is here. And I know that _he_ knows I'm here. Just tell him I need to speak to him."

Arisawa stared skeptically at him a moment longer, most likely attempting to assess why a middle school kid would bleach his hair white, wear traditional clothing, and walk into a closed sweets shop in order to call her a mutant. He would never be sure exactly how far she got with that particular train of thought, but none-the-less he decided he must have said something right when she stepped into a back room.

Seconds later he heard a loud, crashing sound followed by Arisawa's screaming vocals. "Oi! Urahara! Bakajii! There's a little, white haired delinquent up here wearing the same clothes as Ichigo who says he wants to talk to you!"

Hitsugaya felt a vein in his forehead spasm painfully. Oh yeah. She was _definitely_ one of Kurosaki's.

* * *

Urahara had indeed sensed Hitsugaya's reiatsu long before he had entered the shop. His reiatsu had felt a little strange, but it was undeniable who its owner was. The situation had intrigued him immensely, and so, naturally, he had run off to leave Tatsuki to deal with it all alone. All in all, he found the whole thing to be incredibly amusing.

But as the conversation wore on his interest began to grow slightly more serious, so when Tatsuki threw an unidentified, blunt object at his face before yelling angrily down at him, he figured it was time to make his appearance.

"Little delinquent, ne?" he grinned innocently, patting his hat as he sheepishly stepped out from his hiding place below and into the Rainbow Brite © shop to meet Hitsugaya's glaring frown. "It fits."

He could tell the Tenth Division head was trying very hard to keep calm. And he was doing fairly well, considering. "I need … your help," he managed through clenched teeth, refusing to look Urahara in the eye.

"How adorable! Chibi tensai-taichou is back from Soul Society to visit me! I've heard so much about you!" he prolonged the charade. He knew from past experience that when you wanted to understand how serious a situation really was, then you should never take it seriously.

The white crowned boy shut his eyes tightly, biting his lip so hard that it actually began to bleed. "It's not … taichou … anymore."

Urahara felt his eyes widen considerably. Okay. So it was _that_ serious. "Now, why would you say something like that?" he questioned, his tone no longer playful.

"I need your help," Hitsugaya repeated, more forcefully this time.

"So I must first agree to help you, and then you'll tell me what I've agreed to help you with? Sounds kinda backward, if you ask me."

He received only a grimace as Hitsugaya's weary eyes pointed purposefully toward a crack in the door behind them through which Tatsuki was listening to their every word. His mischievous grin returned. He already knew his answer; even he couldn't ignore something this big. But he wasn't about to simply agree to the boy's terms without giving him a bit of grief first.

"Aw, you're worried about her? But she's harmless."

"What is she doing here?"

"Hey, why should I answer your questions if you won't answer mine?"

A single, white eyebrow quirked in its annoyance. "I guess I'll just have to hunt down Kurotsuchi-taichou instead," he replied flatly, turning to leave. But Urahara called his bluff and held out an arm to stop him.

"Now, now. We both know that if you could track him down, you never would have come here," the man drawled playfully. "So here. Let's strike a deal. I agree to help you to the best of my abilities, and in return you answer any questions I may ask you whether they seem relevant to your problem or not. How about it?"

Hitsugaya was silent for a long time. Urahara knew very well the boy had no choice but to accept, but he let him pretend to consider. Anyone from Seireitei who would actually place himself at his mercy deserved at least a little sympathy. Finally, he sighed his consent. "Very well. On one condition."

"And what condition would that be?" Urahara asked in a nauseatingly sweet voice.

"Tell me what in the name of all that is sane, if there is still anything sane left in this world, she is doing here."

Urahara looked blankly at his guest for a second before he laughed outright. "Alright, I accept your condition!" he grinned, suddenly yanking the door wide open with his cane and causing an indignant Arisawa Tatsuki to tumble to the ground between them. "Ichigo was being his usual stupid self and decided to forego all common sense and stealth in order to let his friends follow him here, even when he so obviously didn't want them to get involved. So, naturally, I told them I'd explain everything after school let out today, but a certain someone got impatient and thought it would be a good idea to barge into my shop and declare it closed until I answered her questions. Isn't that right, Tat-chan?"

"Don't you dare call me that!" she thundered, somehow managing to sound threatening even from her spot on the floor. "You send Ichigo and Ishida and Sado off to who knows where, chatter on about how they're just going to some alternate universe with a few shinigami to save Orihime, and then you shove us out the door and tell us to come back again tomorrow so you can catch up on your beauty sleep?! Is it really so wrong to want to know why all of my friends have suddenly run off to join some dimension-hopping cult of black-robed lunatics?! And what the hell difference does it make if you tell me now or later anyway?!"

"Well, to be honest, I was only messing with you before," he replied without skipping a beat, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "but now I've got a guest and you've got school. So bring along your two boyfriends later, and I'll explain, 'kay?"

The high school student offered Urahara's new "guest" a glare that clearly said she blamed him for wasting precious interrogation time before turning back to the traditionally garbed blonde. "You had better," she gritted through her teeth, her voice sounding for all the world like death itself.

The salesman was not to be swayed however, and so she marched angrily out of the shop, punching the door on her way. When Urahara turned to Hitsugaya once again, he found the white haired shinigami staring at him critically, a single brow raised in ironic amusement. "Kurosaki doesn't want them involved, and so, without a second thought, you immediately get them involved," he mused dryly, an accusing edge in the background of his tone.

"Just doing my part," he replied innocently. "Besides, they've been involved from the very beginning, whether Ichigo admits it or not."

Hitsugaya only snorted.

"So, a drink then?" Urahara grinned as he went into the back of the store once again, happily beckoning the boy to follow.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

The tone with which the ex-shinigami replied was a far cry from the innocent smile playing wickedly across his lips.

"I never do."

* * *

Four glasses of cola later (the boy seemed to have taken a liking to the stuff), Hitsugaya had finally finished the much needed explanation. He had consistently tried to shrink the tale to a more manageable size, but Urahara was determined to hear every single minute detail. He had even gone so far as to inquire about the relationships Hitsugaya had had with each of the three defectors before they, well … defected.

"So," Urahara concluded with an air of finality, "you screwed up, and now you want me to fix everything for you."

Hitsugaya in turn offered him one of his trademark glares. He had been doing that quite a lot since he had arrived here. Finally, he haltingly clarified, "Yes. I 'screwed up'. But I have no intentions of leaving the clean up to you; I merely need help while I do so myself. I am not so pathetic that I would dump my own problems on another." His words were mechanical but firm and sharp. His tone lightened to biting sarcasm, however, when he added under his breath, "Nor would I manipulate others into choosing to take them on of their own wills, unlike a certain person I know."

"That hurts," the salesman mocked, lifting a hand to his chest to emphasize his abundant sarcasm. That was perhaps the one thing the two had in common.

Hitsugaya promptly "Tch!"ed and stood up, grasping his empty glass tightly. "I'm getting another," he grumbled before disappearing from the room.

Urahara had to admit he was enjoying this much more than he should have been. A poison, distributed through the Arrancar, which was both untraceable and fueled by its host's reiatsu. It was more like a parasite than a poison, when he thought about it. But that wasn't all that thrilled him. Perhaps, he could use his short companion's problems to his advantage…

The thought made him laugh gleefully as he realized he was doing exactly what Hitsugaya had accused him of moments before.

Vaguely he wondered whether he should alert Yoruichi to the young taichou's situation but decided against it. He'd wait for something really big to contact her. Like when Ichigo and his little fan club returned from Hueco Mundo. She'd enjoy that, he grinned slyly. And if he just happened to get a snap shot of her face as the little guy suddenly walked in on her, it would simply be a bonus.

Well, he reasoned, Hitsugaya had done his part for the moment, though Urahara was in no way finished with his questions. Now it was his turn to fulfill his own end of the deal. As soon as the white crowned boy returned, he grabbed him by the wrist and bodily dragged him (very nearly kicking and screaming) down a hall and into another room, where a muscular man wearing an apron was currently sorting through a large closet.

* * *

For the second time in so many hours, Hitsugaya was ready to bolt.

"Well? Tessai?" Urahara asked simply, and the man called Tessai bowed and pointed toward a gigai propped up in the corner of the room.

As soon as Hitsugaya was settled comfortably in the gigai which Urahara had promised was nothing like the insane contraption he had stuck Kuchiki with (not that Hitsugaya had been given any reason to trust said promise), the exuberant salesman pushed the half-naked boy toward the man in the apron. He then proceeded to search through a large pile of clothing Tessai had chosen from the wardrobe. Hitsugaya's uneasiness only continued to increase as Urahara chose varying pieces of clothing including an assortment of fishnet, belts, and ripped fabrics from the pile. He could feel his jaw tense whenever the man's hand wandered over a dress or any of the many disturbing pieces lined with lace, but luckily, Urahara seemed well aware of his gender for the moment. He was unsure of whether that could change or not with the man's moods.

Finally Urahara presented him with an ensemble consisting of a skin tight shirt ripped at the elbows, pants laced with zippers, tags, and various other intricacies Hitsugaya could not fathom, a slightly lopsided hat, lace-up combat boots, and so many useless belts, knobs, and chains that the white crowned boy could only stare in disbelief. "What the hell is that?"

"Unless you want to walk around like _that_," the man replied with a wicked grin, looking pointedly at the boxers Hitsugaya was currently wearing, "then I suggest you get used to it. After all, it's not as if you can really be picky in this situation, ne?"

Grudgingly, he accepted the preposterous outfit, mostly because he didn't want to know what else the man might come up with if he refused, and donned it as dignified as anyone in his position could. "I feel like a clown," he grunted as he grimaced at his reflection. Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Or Abarai…"

"Good!" Urahara nodded teasingly, patting him on the head with a rolled-up magazine before handing it to him. "Now you match your hairstyle." The boy looked at Urahara quizzically before he began rifling through the magazine's contents. It depicted many young men and women doing disturbing things to each other in outlandish outfits much like his but showing much more skin and in all the wrong places. Hitsugaya immediately dropped it, a scarlet blush engrossing his cheeks. Urahara's mischievous grin was wider than ever as he seemed to materialize a paper fan out of nowhere and set it gleefully against his chin. "Don't drop it like that. I paid lots of money for it."

"W-Why would you pay money for s-something like that?!"

"You need something to read while minding the shop, don't you? I may have agreed to help you out, but if you're going to stick around here you're going to need to pull your own weight."

It was official. Hitsugaya should have just stayed in Soul Society, plopped down on the ground, and shouted, "Take me already!" It would have been less futile than this.

* * *

Arisawa Tatsuki, Asano Keigo, and Kojima Mizuiro barged in several hours later, the latter two looking rather out of breath while Arisawa looked ready to kill. The sign outside the shop still stated that it was closed, but it was obvious they were not about to succumb to civilities at the moment. When they saw who was behind the counter, however, Arisawa paused. The other two took advantage of this to catch their breath.

"You again?" she asked, expression skewed as she looked up and down Hitsugaya's new outfit. He had managed to tear off a few belts and had removed the excessive footwear, but Urahara had insisted he keep the hat, if only to hide his outlandish hairstyle just the slightest bit. He had suggested dying the boy's hair but had quickly found himself dodging a well-aimed kick to his groin. Urahara had not brought up the subject since. Hitsugaya had survived in the living world once with his unique hairstyle, and he could certainly do it again, thank you very much.

He did his best to ignore her as he grumbled his reply. "The idiot ran away as soon as he felt your reiatsu. He's hiding behind the giant stuffed duck in the back room."

"There's a giant stuffed duck in the back room?" she guffawed, seeming to forget all about Hitsugaya's attire.

"Don't ask."

"HEY!"

Hitsugaya had to wince from the sheer volume before he turned to see one the boys, Asano, pointing at him and gaping. He could place this one much quicker than Tatsuki because he was the one Madarame and Ayasegawa had pointed out as their host. He knew some sort of blackmail had been involved, but neither of the Eleventh Division shinigami had gone into detail.

"You're that shorty that Ikkaku was talking about! The kid who always hung out with Matsumoto-san up on the roof!" Hitsugaya glowered at him. Not only did this person remember that the shinigami had gone to Karakura High, but he had used _two_ forbidden words in a single breath. Madarame had better hope he did not come back from this alive. "I tried to convince myself it had all been a bad dream! Just one, big nightmare! You guys just disappeared! I thought I was home free! Does that mean those two lunatics are here too?! Oh, why?! Why must the world be so cruel?!"

A white brow twitched irritably as Asano broke down into over-dramatic sobs. The other two high school students, in contrast, seemed completely unaffected. Apparently, it was a fairly usual occurrence.

"Oi," the girl's voice spoke up, volume controlled so that it was masked by Asano's whining, and Hitsugaya returned his gaze to her once more. Her annoyed expression had now been worn into something more haggard. It was painfully familiar. "You're … a shinigami, right? Those clothes and that weapon you had on your back earlier…"

Hitsugaya was fairly surprised that she recognized the term "shinigami." So she had managed to yank at least some information from Urahara that morning. It was more than he had succeeded in doing. He nodded, knowing the information would come out eventually anyway if they were going to be interacting with the insane salesman.

"Then, Ichigo…" she practically whispered, her pace quickening with every word. "If you were here, you know what he's been doing. You know what happened to Orihime. You disappeared right before he ran off. You knew this was going to happen. Tell me. Please. What is going on? Where the hell is Orihime?"

The white crowned shinigami could only stare blankly into those dark and desperate eyes. He wished he could come up with an apathetic or dismissing reply that would once again set her into angered hysterics or even goad her into following after Urahara, anything to get that expression out of his line of vision. But his voice was being thoroughly uncooperative. He was not used to this sort of thing happening, being utterly speechless. He always had some sort of retort. But not now. Not with those deep brown eyes staring expectantly into his own. He couldn't do a thing.

It was that expression.

That damned expression. It was too damned familiar. It was too damned much. Dammit.

"Hey now, Tat-chan! Don't take your frustrations out on little Hitsugaya-kun, ne? I'm the one who promised you an explanation, right? I even went to all the trouble to hide so that you could come find me." Hitsugaya was literally blown from his thoughts when Urahara suddenly appeared behind Arisawa, tapping her head with his fan.

Asano had stopped crying by now and was standing by Kojima, watching Urahara grin as Arisawa seethed. "I told you not to call me that!"

"Nonsense, Tat-chan! You only say that because you think I'm annoying. Anyway, I suggest we settle down and get a few drinks ready. This is going to take a very, very long time to explain. Ne, Hitsugaya-kun? Would you mind getting some more drinks?"

Arisawa was already readying herself to punch the man square in the nose before he had even finished. Kojima held her back as she continued to fume, seeing as Urahara was no longer even looking in her direction. Hitsugaya did his best to hold in his temper, but his voice still sounded more like a growl than anything else. "Not. A. Chance."

"Honestly. You're no fun at all." And he was out the door, the three high school students in tow, leaving Hitsugaya alone in the shop once more.

Absently, a hand reached out to grab a bag from one of the racks, and he began popping the artificial flavors into his mouth, chewing furiously.

Urahara had indeed proven to be the skilled man Hitsugaya had tried to convince himself the man was earlier. He had read Hitsugaya like a book as the boy had been telling his story; he could tell by the way the man's brow would quirk just the slightest bit or how he'd try to hide a smile behind his glass of iced tea. Even just then. The timing with which the be-hatted man had interrupted was far too convenient. Oh yes, he was skilled alright. Hitsugaya just wished the man didn't have to be so erratic about it all.

Pausing in his frustrated chewing, he allowed himself a glance out the window and into the afternoon sky. He swallowed, sinking deeper into the countertop.

That damned expression.

Dammit.


	7. Gravity

I just realized I totally botched a very particular tradition in Bleach. The shinigami nearly always reveal their name and sometimes even rank to whomever they fight, as a courtesy to their enemy. "You should know the name of the one who will kill you." But when I had Hitsugaya fight the arrancar, there was no such exchange. I'm sorry about that.

And so, because they never got the chance to introduce themselves, the two arrancar shall be named in this chapter. 'Cause I feel sorry for them. And for messing up so badly. I wonder if you all can figure out what the names mean. I guess they're kind of obvious though. Well, either way, it'll say at the end of the chapter.

Peace out.

* * *

"_Actions lie louder than words._"

_Carolyn Wells_

* * *

**Chapter Six**

Gravity

* * *

Ichimaru Gin leaned rigorously against the back of his chair, pushing it ever closer to the floor as he stretched his taut spine. Las Noches was currently more alive than it had ever been, but in this secluded room the only noise was the lightest of hisses emitting soothingly from the zanpakutou in the corner and the only movement was the fluid motion overcoming Gin's sleek body like a wave.

Hints of battle tainted his senses for a moment before he sat up straight once again, reveling in the saturnalia of yet another spike of reiatsu silently collapsing in upon itself. Aw. That would be Ukitake's little girl, Kuchiki's nee-chan. Too bad, she had been kind of cute. Oh well. That made two down, three to go.

Hmph. If they kept up like this, they'd ruin everything.

Before Ichimaru could muse any further however, another very familiar reiatsu approached his door. Last time it had merely been Tousen, poking around and keeping himself occupied in his own unique sort of way. This time, Gin knew, would be different.

"Ah, Gin," came the calm, pastoral voice as the door creaked open behind him and admitted his guest into his makeshift domain.

"Aizen," Gin replied as he spun the chair around slowly, using no honorific but pronouncing each syllable in a clear, concise way as he said no other word in all of his extensive vocabulary.

"Tousen has brought it to my attention that I have been excluding the two of you from my more recent ventures," the man continued with a grin that was far more deranged than anything Gin could ever come up with for the sole reason that it was entirely genuine. This did not stop him from cracking his own smile in reply though. "I apologize if you have been bored while you have been waiting."

"Bored? Naw. Whatever gave ya that idea? I've been havin' a blast."

"I see," intoned Aizen. And Gin knew very well that he _did_ see. Clearer than anyone else he had ever known. "So that is what happened to Estallar and Hierro. I wondered what had become of them."

_Yeah right._ "Jus' a lil game I'm playin'," Ichimaru replied innocently. "Kinda like yers but with simpler rules." He watched as Aizen's brow raised just enough to be noticeable but no farther. But his former taichou said nothing, so he continued, grin widening, "Speakin' of yer game, it don't seem t'be goin' too well, ne? You sure you judged 'em right?"

Aizen met the playful challenge firmly, though his soft smile only seemed to lighten. "I have judged each accordingly and have designated fitting opponents. Though perhaps I did miscalculate slightly in one particular area." Now it was Gin's turn to raise his brows. "I believe I may have overestimated them. My strategies can be easily adjusted to this however. I do not foresee it becoming a problem."

"'Course not," Ichimaru chimed submissively. His squinting eyes however, held a glisten to them that told an entirely different motive for his words. The tension made the very air within the room unbreathable, yet the two men were in perfect harmony, each knowing exactly what the other really meant within each of their twisted walls of riddles and evasions.

So it was no surprise to Ichimaru Gin when Aizen nodded and replied, "While there is no question that my plans shall succeed locally, there are one or two more distant extensions that warrant looking into."

Gin's face could barely contain his wicked smirk as he looked up at his former taichou, the only man he had ever truly pledged any form of loyalty to, the only man he had ever truly respected.

"This game of yours, Gin. I'm very interested."

* * *

Hitsugaya sat behind the counter of Urahara Shoten once again, feeling that he was rather lacking for the arduous task ahead of him.

Urahara had refused to let him borrow money, insisting he earn it, and so he had had to endure another of the insane salesman's crack dress sessions. Luckily, today he had been able to effectively remove and hide away the hat. He had experienced a reasonably unpleasant surprise the other day, which Urahara had cheerfully informed him was called "hat hair," and he did not want to experience said surprise again.

Urahara had also introduced him to his extensive library, full to the brim of shelf upon shelf upon shelf of unread volumes and manuscripts. They were not organized in any order at all, nor were they in anything close to decent condition. He had stared blankly at the dusty enclave, hoping with every fiber of his being that Urahara would tell him he was joking, but he had only patted his back affectionately.

"Good luck."

The boy grit his teeth, fist clenching as he imagined it firmly taking hold of the former shinigami's neck. Honestly. It was as if the more people wished him luck, the worse his got.

"Anou, Hitsugaya-kun," came a familiar, feminine voice. Hitsugaya took a deep breath to quell his frustration before he looked up. Arisawa Tatsuki stood before him; Asano and Kojima stumbled wearily from the back rooms after her, Urahara tagging along briskly beside them. As they were leaving yesterday, looking much more dazed and unbelieving than they had when they had entered, Urahara asked them to keep coming so that he could help them better understand their newfound senses. By their defeated steps and fatigued expressions, Hitsugaya figured this probably involved a lot of unnecessary running around for the sadistic, fan-waving salesman's own personal enjoyment.

"Yes?" he asked, avoiding her tired eyes.

She sighed, chancing a glance at her two companions. Both were very uninterested in her at the moment, entirely occupied with leaning against anything that would hold their weight up for them. When she turned back to him and sat down purposefully, he couldn't help but notice that a new vigor had alighted within her. "I wanted to say … I'm sorry for the other day," she began just a little awkwardly. And he could tell she was avoiding his eyes as well. "I was just … desperate, I guess. No one would tell me what was going on, and I kinda took all that out on anyone who was unlucky enough to be stuck with me. I've apologized to pretty much everybody else by now, but I thought I should probably say sorry to you too. So … sorry. Alright?"

Finally, Hitsugaya forced himself to face those eyes. They were world weary and unrest had caused them to redden and swell, but they were looking directly at him, warm and welcoming. She held out her hand. He stared blankly at the slender fingers for a moment before reaching out his own hand and grasping them in a firm hand shake. "Alright."

"Good. So … er … Want something to drink?"

Hitsugaya nearly cringed. That was what Urahara asked every time he was about to start an uncomfortable conversation. He had only been here for a day and a half, and he could already recognize it. "You want to know about Kurosaki, right?" he grumbled, propping his upper body against the counter top.

Arisawa seemed a little startled, but she recovered quickly. Smiling sheepishly, she replied, "Well, kind of. Actually … I wanted to know … what sort of people he's fighting right now. Baka-jii didn't tell us any specifics."

Another sigh. But, he decided, he might as well. She was as caught up in this mess as he was, after all. He explained about Aizen's, Ichimaru's, and Tousen's treachery and the arrancar. She seemed especially interested in the Espada and had asked him to describe all of the ones he had seen, which wasn't many. His description of the Tenth Espada, he noted, sent a slight shiver down her spine. When she asked about Hueco Mundo however, Hitsugaya could not give her the answer she wanted. He had never been there and knew absolutely nothing of any worth.

Finally, she leaned back, stretching well-toned but slender muscles as she did so. She looked down at the counter top, the smallest of smiles poking at her chapped lips in a way that, somehow, seemed incredibly sad. "How much would you be willing to bet that Ichigo will come back with Orihime?"

For a while, Hitsugaya was silent. That expression was slowly creeping back to her facial features. Those sad brown eyes and that forlorn haggardness that reminded him so much of Hinamori. Hinamori, crying over Aizen._ Hinamori, crying over him._ He knew he couldn't have stayed in Soul Society. Doing so would have only served to waste precious time he did not have. But he still couldn't help it. He still couldn't shake this feeling.

He was doing the exact same thing as Aizen.

He too had left behind everything and everyone who cared for him. Hinamori, Matsumoto, the Tenth Division… He had betrayed them all. And that damned, stupid expression always seemed to remind him of that fact.

And now Kurosaki Ichigo was determined to follow in his footsteps. That idiot.

_And yet..._ Hitsugaya looked into those eyes once more and sighed, taking a deep breath before he answered. "I have no money to bet with," he grumbled noncommittally at first, causing Arisawa to furrow an ebony brow. When he continued though, his tone was stern and solid, unwavering. "But if I did, I would bet it all that Kurosaki will bring Inoue back in one piece, along with everyone else who followed him through that gateway."

He did not see Urahara's smirk, hidden behind one of the more elaborate displays. Nor did he notice when the man silently exited the shop. What he did see was Arisawa's surprised expression soften into a bittersweet grin.

"Yeah," she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Me too."

* * *

Tatsuki, Kojima, and Asano all seemed absolutely determined not to leave. Hitsugaya understood that today was a Friday, but honestly, didn't they have anything better to do at all? Not that he was entirely against them being here…. When Urahara Kisuke, a stoic man in an apron, and two loud-mouthed children were your only other options, sometimes even bored high school students made good company. But looking down at Asano, squatting under the counter in an attempt to hide as he read the inappropriate magazine Urahara had dumped on Hitsugaya the day before, he couldn't help but feel that he'd be much better off somewhere far, far away.

Even Hitsugaya had to admit that Tatsuki and Kojima were interesting conversationalists though. Tatsuki, after he had addressed her as "Arisawa" one time too many, had instantaneously discovered his one weakness and had commenced chanting "Shirou-chan!" for a full five minutes before he had finally consented to calling her by her first name. She could get very animated when she talked about things like martial arts or how all of the kids in her class would react if she told them about what was happening, and she was adamantly stubborn when it came to her beliefs and ideals.

For example, when their conversation had strayed to Kurosaki once again, she had declared with a frown that she had hit him once already, and as soon as he returned, she'd follow through with the other fist. When he had asked why, she'd simply said, "Because that idiot deserves it!" He'd raised an eyebrow, smirked his smirk, and replied that when the time came, he'd hold him down for her.

While Tatsuki was certainly the livelier, Kojima was also eye-catching. He, unlike his two companions, was completely new to his spiritual senses. But he seemed entirely okay with all of it. He was not deterred in the least, nor had his manners changed in the slightest. He took all of it at face value and accepted it as the single explanation that fit with everything currently happening. He was also amazing at reading other people and reacting accordingly, a little like Urahara but much more subtle. He could change his own mannerisms as quickly as Asano's dramatic fits could come and go, and he was able to catch on to the slightest changes in Tatsuki's moods and react accordingly.

He spoke with Hitsugaya not as if he was a kid, as the other two often did, but as an equal or even an elder. Their conversations were intelligent yet simple and to the point. He was by far the easiest to get valuable information from as well as the easiest to understand.

Before Hitsugaya could muse about the others any further though, the softest ting of a bell rang, and Urahara reentered the shop happily chattering to … a cat. Well, Urahara was Urahara after all. To be honest, Hitsugaya wasn't all that surprised. It wasn't until the cat rolled its eyes at its cheerful companion, turned to face him, nearly coughed up a hairball, and then ran out of the room with a wickedly grinning Urahara right behind that Hitsugaya became truly perturbed.

"What was _that_ all about?" Asano asked, peaking out from under the counter top.

"Stay here," Hitsugaya commanded, scowling as he stomped down the steps to the back rooms irritably. Luckily, it seemed these three were actually willing to listen to him.

"Kisuke! What the hell is _he_ doing here?!"

"A wonderful tale of heart break and woe to be told at a later date, my dear Yoruichi!" Urahara's fluttering voice echoed as Hitsugaya froze in his decent. _Had he just said … Yoruichi…? _"I came to get you for another matter entirely."

"And do I really want to know?" Hitsugaya could sense a familiar frustration in the husky voice.

"Of course, you do! Why else would I come get you?" the salesman affronted mockingly. The speed with which this lack of seriousness dissipated however, was rather disturbing to the eavesdropping shinigami. "It's time. Can you feel it?"

Hitsugaya could.

Honestly, who couldn't?

Forgetting entirely about Urahara and his companion, he ran down the rest of the length of the stairs, past the grinning man and the talking cat, and down many an as of yet unexplored hallway. He followed that unforgettable reiatsu as far as it took him, until he stood before a large, hand-crafted gateway. Light erupted from the portal, hoarse screaming and yelling and sounds of rushing feet ushering from its intense, blinding rays.

Then, a silhouette stumbled into the room, breathing hard and looking rather worse for wear, just barely managing to support someone on his back.

"Kurosaki Ichigo."

* * *

Ichigo didn't know what exactly he should concentrate on: the cero beams whizzing by his head, the blood oozing into his eyes, Chad trying to push himself off of his back, his wavering balance, or the shrimp of a taichou staring him down. He decided to go with the shrimp.

"Toushirou!"

"What are you talking about, Ichi-! Hi-Hit-Hitsugaya-taichou!?"

Renji, cradling an unconscious Rukia in his arms, looked down at Hitsugaya in awe as Orihime and Uryuu, propping each other up by their shoulders, finally made it through the gateway. The bright light promptly disappeared, leaving the new arrivals to stare at their greeter in varying levels of confusion and shock.

Ichigo saw Toushirou's gaze shift to Rukia's limp form, eyes narrowing as they crossed over the torn and bloodstained shihakushou. She was definitely in the worst shape of all of them. "Well, what are you waiting for, you idiots?! I'm sure Inoue is dying to heal you morons, so stop ogling and let her already!"

His sharp, commanding voice pulled them out of their reveries, and they quickly began shuffling about. Renji set Rukia down gently on the ground, and Orihime immediately called on her Shun Shun Rikka and got to work. Ichigo let go of Chad as the much larger man sat down cross-legged on the ground, nursing a fair amount of ugly gashes around his middle and right side. Orihime had better hurry, or else the big guy was in for some real trouble. Ichigo himself was sporting some pretty frightening injuries, as were Uryuu and Renji, but they weren't yet on the verge of death. They had each been able to count on the help of an extra partner, however annoying, and that had obviously made a difference, no matter how much it pained Ichigo to say it. Orihime was the least wounded, but even she had collected plenty of cuts and bruises, a particularly large cut across her hand being part of the reason they had all made it out of that place alive. Ichigo would definitely have to thank her for that later.

But for now… "Yo, Toushirou! What're you _doing_ here?"

"What does it look like? I'm watching you impulsive numbskulls make fools of yourselves. Did you idiots even have enough time to think about the potential consequences of your ridiculously stupid actions before you charged off into-" Ichigo had stopped listening at "impulsive numbskulls" but quickly noticed when the short taichou had silenced, mouth still open in mid-lecture.

"Kurosaki." His voice was strained and clearly impatient.

"Yeah?" he ventured defensively.

"What exactly is that _thing_ attached to your leg?"

Ichigo looked blankly at Hitsugaya for a moment before finally looking down. A shy and rather distressed head, skull-shaped hollow mask and all, was peeking out hesitantly from behind his leg. He blanched.

"Nell?! What the hell are you doing here?! You're supposed to be with Pesshe and Chakker! They're gonna freak when they find out you're gone!"

"But it was scary there! I wanted to stay with Ichigo!" the tiny arrancar wailed, clutching the material around his leg even tighter.

Toushirou clamped his forehead as if in pain. Ichigo couldn't help but resent that a bit, seeing as he was the one person in the room who _wasn't_ injured. "You didn't even notice it was there?" he spoke, his tone measured and held back through clenched teeth.

"Look," Ichigo grumbled, not in the best of moods after what he had just endured, "_She_'s harmless. Besides, if you were being chased around by insane Espada with crazy, shinigami crushing powers, I doubt you'd be able to notice anything either! We must've seriously pissed Aizen off. I really didn't think we were going to make it for a while there!"

"Believe me, if Aizen had really been pissed, you wouldn't have made it. The only reason you could have survived is that he wanted you to."

Alright. That was it. The single statement was far too much for Ichigo to deal with at the moment. "What the hell?! I just get back from risking my ass in Crazy Hollow World, and the first thing I get is some half-pint in my face telling me it was all useless?! What the hell do you mean we couldn't have survived?!"

"Kurosaki!" Ichigo stopped. Toushirou's hands were no longer cradling his forehead, and his oceanic eyes were focused venomously upon him, much more violent and passionate than Ichigo had ever expected. Nearly all eyes were on the two now, even Orihime's. He could feel Nell's little fingernails biting into his leg. The small shinigami advanced on him as he sent out his verbal tirade. "When I felt Abarai and Kuchiki leave Soul Society, it took every ounce of self-control I had to keep from stopping them because I knew that if they chased after you into Hueco Mundo, the chances of them ever returning at all, let alone alive, could be rounded to _zero_! If Aizen wanted you dead, you know _very well_ you would be."

Kurosaki Ichigo stared mutely down at the frighteningly serious taichou, utterly incapable of unearthing any sort of retort. He heard the distinct sound of Renji gulping from behind him.

"He's right, you know," came a familiar voice as he felt something slap down onto his head. Ichigo whirled around to face the unforgettable duo.

"Getaboushi! Yoruichi!"

"Good to see you too," emitted from the cat's mouth, just before it transformed into a very beautiful, very naked woman. "Ichigo."

* * *

Hitsugaya could still feel the heat of the blush that had engulfed his entire face the instant Shihouin had transformed. He had most definitely not been expecting that. But it had certainly sobered him of his rage, that much was sure.

By now, at least, she had pulled some clothes on. Inoue had finished healing nearly everyone. Urahara had offered his greeting and one or two condensed and contradictory explanations. Kuchiki Rukia was sleeping soundly, and Inoue was fussing over Ichigo, who had insisted on being the last to be healed. Ichigo, on the other hand, was still snickering at Hitsugaya's reaction. Hitsugaya could tell that Abarai very much wanted to do the same, but he was fighting his urges until he knew the former taichou was out of ear shot.

Of course, he had yet to realize that Hitsugaya was very likely stripped of his rank. And the white-crowned shinigami was just fine with keeping it that way.

"Well, come on, come on. If you don't stop messing around down here, they'll leave without you!" Urahara called out merrily, grinning innocently as he received many questioning gazes.

Hitsugaya's eyes widened considerably. He had completely forgotten about those three. Hastily he extended his senses, searching the ground floor. Surprisingly enough, they were still there. For a moment, Hitsugaya wondered whether their senses had developed enough for them to have felt Kurosaki's presence. Most likely. To be honest, he would be more surprised if they had missed it. Which meant they were about to walk into a shop containing one infuriated Tatsuki, one overdramatic Asano, and only one Kojima to hold back the two.

He glanced meaningfully at Urahara as the man ushered the newly healed group toward the exit and promised over and over that Kuchiki would be just fine, but he received only a wanton smirk in return. Oh well. Perhaps the shock would do Kurosaki some good.

Hitsugaya trailed behind the group, intent on keeping away from the others by a good four or five feet at least. He didn't really feel in the mood for conversation at the moment. Kurosaki obviously felt otherwise. The orange haired teenager dismissed himself from Inoue's grasp with a sheepish grin before lagging behind and waiting for Hitsugaya to catch up. He knew there was no point to avoiding him, so he continued his course through the house and muttered an unenthusiastic, "What?"

"There's something … weird about you," Kurosaki frowned as if looking for the right words to explain his point and not finding them. Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed. "I can't explain it. It's just … not right."

"What makes you say that?" he questioned softly.

"I don't know. I just … feel it, you know?" the substitute shinigami continued to struggle. "And…"

"And what?"

"Well … you didn't correct me when I called you 'Toushirou.'"

Hitsugaya froze. Ever since the moment he had left Soul Society, it had constantly been in his head that he no longer deserved the title he had defended so furiously in the past. He had beaten it into his brain that, even if he did survive this nonsense, he would most likely lose his headship of the Tenth Division. At the very least. He had made sure that he no longer considered himself of any ranking at all. He was outcast; not even, seeing as he had left on his own.

But he had not realized that such a disposition had manifested itself outside of his mind.

He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, then continued on his march. "That is none of your business, Kurosaki," he grunted as they finally reached the stairway to the storefront. "I thought you had learned your lesson after 'Crazy Hollow World.'"

"Whatever," the teenaged shinigami sighed, reaching out to open the door only to find that it was already wide open and that a vengeful Arisawa Tatsuki was brandishing a fist less than a foot in front of him.

_Damn it. Why did that idiot have to be so observant?_

In the end, Hitsugaya kept his word.

He held Kurosaki tightly in place as Tatsuki let her fist fly.

* * *

Chapter Six End

* * *

Another little language index. 3

Japanese:

**Getaboushi** – "sandal-hat," Ichigo's nickname for Urahara; "Mr. Hat-and-Clogs in the English manga

Spanish:

**Estallar** – to burst, to puncture

**Hierro** - iron


	8. Falling Up and Getting Down

Fifty reviews! Windy-chan actually hit fifty reviews! -tosses confetti over all my wonderful readers-

And three cheers for the return of Matsumoto!

In this chapter, I ended up creating a few Tenth Division OCs in order to carry on the plot, what with Hitsugaya not being around and all. I hope I portrayed them well enough; I've had issues with such characters in the past. I just figured that with Tenth Division in such chaos, a few strong supporting characters would be needed to hold the fort. And, yes, I _so_ made the third seat a _guy_. Muahahahaha!

On one last note, I apologize if Nell is out of character. I'm not quite as well versed with her as I am with most of the other characters.

So enjoy. I guess.

* * *

"_Time rolls on  
Wipe these eyes  
Yesterday laughs  
Tomorrow cries"_

_Can't Repeat, The Offspring_

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

Falling Up and Getting Down

* * *

Hitsugaya tried his hardest to stare solely at the book propped in front of his face and ignore the thing as it watched him hesitantly from behind a bookshelf. Despite the fact that the little thing seemed to be scared out of its wits by every single movement he perpetrated, it was aggravatingly insistent on following him around everywhere he went.

This habit was making it very hard for him to concentrate on the numerous dusty volumes stacked beside him, piled even higher than his own contemptible 4'4".

After Tatsuki had finished with him and explanations had been shared on both sides, Kurosaki had decided it would be best if he took Rukia home as soon as possible. Unfortunately, there was a slight snag in his plans, an unexpected guest. "Nell" he had called it, Hitsugaya recalled disdainfully.

It obviously couldn't go home with Kurosaki; it would not have been fun to try and explain _that_ one to such an insane father as Hitsugaya knew Kurosaki Isshin was even after only seeing the man twice. None of the other students could take it either, although Inoue had volunteered. School would begin again tomorrow, and she would be unable to watch it for most of the day. Abarai was instantly crossed off the list, no explanation needed there. Both Shihouin and Urahara maintained that they had business to take care of now that there was no more need to watch the gateway.

And so, by process of elimination, babysitting duty had fallen upon him.

The sound of light shuffling told him it had moved, and he finally lowered the book. It was practically shaking as it inched closer and closer to him, leaving the cover of the bookshelf behind it. Sighing grouchily, he let it take a few more baby steps before finally asking, "What?"

It gulped as it looked up at him, big gray-brown eyes enhancing the pout prominent upon its lips. His question seemed to prompt a sudden courage in it, even though it still looked like it would rather run back behind the shelf.

"You're weird."

Hitsugaya was utterly taken aback by the bluntness of the statement. That _thing_ had just called _him_ weird?

"You smell like home," it continued, pout growing in size. "But you smell like a shinigami too." And now he smelled. "Ichigo smells like that."

"Does he?" Hitsugaya just barely managed, lowering the book another inch or so. Despite his better judgment, he had to admit the declaration interested him.

"I like Ichigo." Hitsugaya watched, perplexed, as it took a deep breath, standing up as tall as it could and thrusting its stomach forward. "I like you too."

His book finally hit the floor.

"Shinigami are scary and mean and like to kill us and suck our blood!" it began to run off on a tangent, not shaking quite so much any longer, as Hitsugaya's eyes widening with that last particular accusation. "But you and Ichigo aren't like that! You both could use some serious anger management, but you're not evil! And you're funny! So I like you."

Silence.

"Do you like Nell?"

Letting out another sigh, he frowned, looking right into its eyes which were just below his own eyelevel with him sitting in this chair. "I suppose … you're not as bad … as some of the others," he muttered, not quite sure what he was supposed to say in such a situation.

And although he was fairly sure that if he had said that to anyone else it would have been offending, when she heard him her pout evolved into a large grin and she jumped onto his lap, curling up and making herself comfortable like some sort of cat.

With a small snort, he turned away from her to look up at the ceiling.

He wondered if Matsumoto was faring any better than he was.

* * *

Matsumoto Rangiku lifted her head up wearily from her desk to stare at the Hell Butterfly that had just flown in through the open window. She didn't even bother to lift a hand for it to land on. She merely watched through half-closed lids as it fluttered before her nose, then perched upon her shoulder.

"Kurotsuchi-taichou and Kyouraku-taichou have arrived. Yamamoto-soutaichou requests a second briefing within the hour."

"Really now? Well, you can just tell _Yamamoto-soutaichou_ to go stick his _briefing_ up his ass," the frustrated fukutaichou snarled, tossing aside a stack of unfinished paperwork that she hadn't been able to bring herself to even doodle on. The butterfly shifted its ebony wings for a moment as if in contemplation, before it took off. It was another second or two before realization dawned on Rangiku's features like a ton of unforgiving bricks and she leapt from her chair, tossing herself halfway out the window in order to snag the insect in mid-flight.

"No, no. I'm sorry. Please, forget you ever heard that," she groaned, her twitching brow bearing an uncanny resemblance to a certain MIA taichou. "Just … I'll be there," she finally sighed, defeated, letting the butterfly go once again.

Grumbling various unpleasant things under her breath, she marched out of the office, passing a very concerned Tenth Division third seat, Hideyoshi Kazuki, along the way. "Ah! Matsumoto-san!" he called, running after her. "Is it another briefing then?"

Rangiku didn't answer, but she knew Kazuki well enough to realize that the grim pout she wore was even more answer than was needed. He sighed as he fell into step beside her, self-consciously itching the back of his neck. "Well…" he trailed off momentarily before continuing, "Yamamoto-soutaichou probably won't be very pleased with it, but … if it would help … I could take your place. Ne, Matsumoto-san?"

Tenth Division's fukutaichou froze at the suggestion, her back to the sheepish third seat. For a second, he wondered if he had said something wrong, then she turned around.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she flung her arms around him in a giant bear hug. Unfortunately, he wasn't Hitsugaya, and so Matsumoto's heavenly assets only succeeded in knocking the air from his lungs, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't pleased none-the-less. "Thank you, Kazuki-kun!" she sobbed dramatically as she released him.

"N-No problem," he stuttered, a large, toothy grin threatening to overwhelm him as he watched his fukutaichou head for the division's courtyard. But slowly, surely, the farther she walked, the more the giddiness faded. He took a deep breath, then let it go as he turned around and headed silently to First Division's headquarters.

That courtyard was where Hitsugaya-taichou had always wandered off to when he had needed time to himself.

And time to herself was definitely what she needed, Matsumoto pouted as she came to a stop. Lifting her palm to her forehead, she let it slide backward and snag her bangs, pulling the marigold-hued strands from her eyes. Before her stood the Tenth Division's prized fountain, Narcissus insignia and all. Vaguely she wondered who could have had the gall to choose a flower called the Narcissus as an emblem that represented everything he (or she) stood for. But then she gave up on trying to distract herself.

First Gin, now Hitsugaya. She had given her loyalties to each in turn; and each in turn had left her here alone.

What was she exactly? Was she some kind of natural taichou repellent? Was it her personality? Was she just that sort of person? Could it be her chronic bad sleeping habits? Her breath? She could change all of that if that was all it took!

…

It was the boobs, wasn't it?

Rangiku let her legs give way beneath her to sit down on the ring of the fountain, surprised that she couldn't even laugh at her own jokes.

Maybe she was just too stupid to understand the reason.

She never really knew what she had been expecting the after life to be like, but she was sure this wasn't it.

Just as she began contemplating dunking her head into the crystal clear water, yet another Hell Butterfly alighted next to her. _What now?!_

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou! Hinamori-fukutaichou is at it again! I don't know who else to call!"

Rangiku pouted animatedly before jumping to her feet, fists clenched with solemn decision. Without even responding, she hastily made her way to Fourth Division, running as fast as she could without stepping into shunpo. Taking a quick short cut, she made it in record time. She barged in to a fair many complaints and hastened her pace toward Hinamori's room. The door was wide open, but she couldn't see in due to the many other shinigami crowding around in panic.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou!" the voice from the Hell Butterfly wailed thankfully. Said shinigami whirled around to face a reasonably small, scrawny, and fretting Yamada Hanatarou.

"Hana-kun!" She had come to know the quiet, frantic, Fourth Division shinigami well since Hitsugaya had run off. Despite what his personality tended to project, he was skilled at what he did, a quality of which Unohana-taichou was obviously aware considering his assignment to Kuchiki Rukia and now to Hinamori Momo. This sort of thing wasn't exactly his most professional area of expertise, however, and he was looking even more distraught than usual. "How is-" she began but was cut off by a shrill, desperate scream.

"Where is he?! Where did you take him?! Where is Hitsugaya-kun?!"

"Hinamori-san! Calm down! We've already told you; we haven't taken him anywhere!"

"Then where is he?! I want to see Hitsugaya-kun!"

"We don't _know_ where he is!"

"Liar!" Hinamori shrieked as Matsumoto shoved her way into the room, Hanatarou peeking out from behind her. Two shinigami were attempting to hold the rampaging ex-fukutaichou back as she reached out a threatening hand toward a third who was the one trying, and failing miserably, to reason with her. Her usually docile brown eyes were wide and wild, salty tears spewing as she struggled. Whatever health she had gained since she had wakened from her coma, these fits of hers were quickly draining it.

For just a moment, Rangiku wondered how Hitsugaya would have felt, seeing Hinamori like this. Would he have been guilt-ridden with the notion that he was failing Hinamori yet again? Or would a small part of him have felt a morbid satisfaction that, despite all of Aizen's twisted rearing, he could still engender such a reaction within her?

"Hinamori-san, please! I'm telling the truth!"

"Liar!" she repeated hysterically, beginning to claw furiously at the arms of her captors. "You all took him away, didn't you?! It's because he listened to me, isn't it?! He told you he wanted to help Aizen-taichou for me, and you took him away!"

A resounding slap stung the very air, and Hinamori was instantly silenced as Matsumoto withdrew her hand from her soggy cheek. "How _dare_ you even _think_ that!" Rangiku didn't know whether the grief-stricken girl's words were prompted through desperate hysterics or whether she really believed them to be true. Either way, each and every word Hinamori had just uttered had struck nerve after nerve until she could no longer stand to listen. "How _dare_ you assume that you're the only one who's worried!"

"M-Matsumoto-san…" came the frail whimper as Hinamori stopped struggling. "Matsumoto-san…" Her voice cracked as her wild, brown eyes scrunched tightly closed and the individual tears gave way to streams. "He can't have left. He can't have. There's no way. He'd never leave me on his own. Even if he had a reason. Even if he had a reason! He'd never-!"

One of the shinigami, seizing on the fact that Hinamori had paused in her attacks, reached into the satchel hanging from his shoulder. Matsumoto distinctly saw Momo's eye waver toward the needle he pulled out despite her tantrum. She wasn't surprised. Even Hinamori was aware of how they were going to deal with her. This was not the first time she had done this. What did surprise her was when the suspended fukutaichou turned hastily to face her, eyes still shining with moisture and holding a desperate vigil about them.

"Matsumoto-san… You should know better than anyone, right? You're his fukutaichou. You're supposed to understand, right? Then, tell me. Where is Hitsugaya-kun?"

The questions had a strange impact on Rangiku. She had been ready to slap her again, despite Hanatarou's worried hovering, but she didn't. Her expression lost most of its animosity, yet it remained deathly serious, slightly reminiscent of the one she had held as she had handed the aggrieved Fifth Division fukutaichou Aizen's letter through metal bars.

"I honestly don't know. But I have an idea. And I promise you I will find him, and I will bring him back."

The flow of tears stemmed as Hinamori continued to stare into Matsumoto's pale, hardened eyes. "Matsumoto-san … I …"

Rangiku never heard the rest, as the needle had already punctured the skin and Hinamori fell into sleep mid-sentence. She watched rather numbly as the three shinigami shuffled her to her bed and Hanatarou hastened to heal the numerous scratch marks adorning them all.

They were just lucky that she had been too distressed to use kidou.

* * *

Matsumoto stared at the paperwork piled on the desk in front of her. She wasn't exactly sure when this had become a staring contest, but it had. And despite the fact that the endless stacks of paper had no eyes to stare with, she seemed to be losing. Badly.

There was just something about the way the paperwork sat there, completely untouched and obscuring her view of her taichou's desk, that made her want to throw it to the floor and rip all of it to shreds. Then barbeque the shreds and toss the ashes into Hueco Mundo.

Allowing them to meet any other fate seemed like a sin.

Just as she finally succumbed, reaching out to grab the first piece of typewritten torture, a loud knock on the door saved her the effort. "You know you don't have to knock when it's only me in here," she called out. The door slowly slid open to reveal Hideyoshi Kazuki and, surprisingly, the Tenth Division eighth seat, Aiyuu Suzume. Then again, perhaps it wasn't all that surprising. Suzume was very responsible, hardworking, and a valuable informant when it came to battle strategy; the only reason she hadn't been promoted to an even higher rank was because there were simply no other spots open. And maybe because of her tendency to daydream as well.

"We're here to report the results of the briefing," Kazuki began quietly, a distinct frown prominent upon his features. Rangiku temporarily shoved her war with the paperwork aside, giving the two her full attention. If Kazuki was not happy, she could be certain that she wouldn't be in a few short minutes either.

"I met Aiyuu on my way to the First Division, and when she heard about the briefing, she wished to come as well. I thought it would be fine, seeing as we were taking the place of a higher ranked official. Yamamoto-soutaichou _was_ pretty annoyed about us arriving in your stead at first, but he excused your absence as soon as Yamada-san informed him about Hinamori's fit." Matsumoto nodded, hoping he'd get to actual briefing quickly. She couldn't help but notice the slightest twitch on Suzume's part after Kazuki had mentioned Hinamori, hastily covered up by pushing her glasses back up her nose, but she decided to ignore it.

"Kenpachi-taichou, Kusajishi-fukutaichou, Kotetsu-fukutaichou, and Kuchiki-taichou all gave their accounts of the day prior to, and the morning of, Hitsugaya-taichou's disappearance. When discussing a motive for leave, the Division heads could only discern two possibilities. One was that the arrancar he defeated said something to him that prompted him to leave Soul Society, a threat or something along those lines. This theory was prompted by your earlier statement that he had appeared uncharacteristically perturbed after speaking with his opponent."

"The second possibility," he continued, his teeth clenching, "was voiced by Kurotsuchi-taichou and seconded by Soifon-taichou and Yamamoto-soutaichou as a possibility they could not ignore at this stage in our preparation for war." Rangiku knew exactly what Kazuki was going to say next. Golden brows furrowed dangerously low as pale eyes dug deeply into Kazuki's own brown. "It cannot be ignored that Hitsugaya-taichou may have joined Aizen's ranks."

"However, Yamamoto-soutaichou also agreed that such an alliance may have been brought on through the first possibility," Suzume suddenly spoke up, nearly tripping over her words in her haste. "Hitsugaya-taichou may have joined Aizen to protect Soul Society from something. And that's only if he actually _did_ side with Aizen, which no one has been able to prove and which only three out of nine Division heads agreed was a possibility."

Suzume's near comical interruption kept Rangiku from tossing the desk across the room in her anger. She had always liked that about Suzume. She was like a tranquilizer for everyone in the division, even Taichou. And Rangiku knew this had to be affecting everyone else just as badly as it was her, so she cooled her jets and merely nodded.

Kazuki took a deep breath before continuing. "A third possibility was voiced by Unohana-taichou, though most present seemed to think it too much of a wild goose chase to pursue."

"Go on…" Matsumoto encouraged, very interested. If Unohana-taichou had said something than it had to have involved that wound.

"Unohana-taichou believed it was possible that it could have something to do with the wound you and Kusajishi-fukutaichou mentioned." Bingo. "The arrancar, like shinigami, are known to have very differing abilities due to their unique zanpakutou releases. Unohana-taichou thought that perhaps the wound was only the requirement for such an ability to take hold.

"Unfortunately, the number of possible abilities is endless. Not to mention the fact that Kotetsu-fukutaichou healed the wound."

Another nod from Matsumoto. That was the kicker, wasn't it? Yet, after Isane had healed him, Hitsugaya-taichou had followed through with a string of frustrated curses.

"In conclusion," Kazuki began once again, his features hardening, "because we can't exclude any of the possibilities so early in the investigation, Yamamoto-soutaichou has decided that we are to view Hitsugaya-taichou's leave as an act of defiance against Soul Society. He has been stripped of his rank and is to be considered a secondary threat until proven otherwise."

Matsumoto slid back into her chair, hand cupping her forehead and hiding her eyes from her fellow officers. "Is that all?"

"No," Kazuki answered, tone morphing into something softer, more empathetic. Rangiku peaked through her fingers at him. Suzume was staring quizzically at him as well. "Ukitake-taichou did not give a statement."

Matsumoto's eyes widened considerably at this piece of information as Suzume shifted her gaze from Kazuki to Rangiku to Kazuki to Rangiku, still looking rather confused. She remembered the frantic conversation she had shared with him the very same day Hitsugaya had run off – had it really only been two days ago? – in which she had mentioned that Ukitake had been there to greet her as she felt the last of her taichou's reiatsu disappear to another world. In other words, Ukitake-taichou had been the last person to see Hitsugaya in Soul Society.

And he hadn't given a statement?

Ukitake-taichou had always seemed to look after Hitsugaya-taichou, a little like a doting grandfather in many ways. He had always been so honest, so loyal, to everyone no matter what rank or division. He would never keep information that could benefit Hitsugaya to himself. So why no statement? Could it be that he couldn't give away the information he had? But why wouldn't he be able to?

And suddenly, it came to her.

"Th-Thank you, Kazuki-kun, Suzume-chan," she replied, her hand falling from her face to reveal her stunned expression. "I'll take it from here."

Kazuki nodded, bowed ever so slightly, and left, pulling an utterly baffled Suzume along behind him. Rangiku continued to stare off into space for a moment longer before she too stood up, collected Haineko from beside her desk, and strode purposefully toward the Thirteenth Division.

Ukitake Jyuushirou had _a lot_ of explaining to do.

After all, the only way a man like him would refuse to give them information about her taichou was if he had sworn he wouldn't.

And the only person he could have made such a promise to was Hitsugaya Toushirou himself.

* * *

Chapter Seven End

* * *

Behind the Names: 

**Hideyoshi** – Good Sun

**Kazuki** – Pleasant Peace

**Aiyuu** – Superior/Great Love

**Suzume** – Sparrow


	9. All of the Above

The ending reminds me of last chapter's ending. Oh well.

Alright. I'll be the first to admit that this chapter is a little off. I'm not exactly sure why, it just feels awkward to me. It's also frustratingly short. All it really is is a bit of a transition chapter. I hope it doesn't hurt the story too much. If it does, I apologize. And I can only hope that what I have planned for the next few chapters will make up for it.

On a completely unrelated note… It is now officially Spring Break. And I plan to do _a whole lot_ of writing. So I'll see you all again real soon.

Until then. Enjoy. If you can.

* * *

"_Anger at lies lasts forever. Anger at truth can't last._"

_Greg Evans_

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

All of the Above

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou would never admit it. Ever. To anyone.

That didn't stop him from thinking about it.

Ever since he had spoken with Ichimaru in that world of nothingness, he had constantly made sure that Hyourinmaru was present everywhere he went. Even when in his gigai, if given a moment to think, he would press his awareness into the recesses of his mind until he heard the characteristic thrumming of his zanpakutou.

He knew it was cowardly of him, needy, clingy, (which he most definitely was _not_) but whenever he remembered that empty, silent feeling that had plagued him when he had not had Hyourinmaru there to support him, he forgot all about his shame and felt as if he couldn't afford _not_ to make sure. It was obvious that Hyourinmaru felt differently.

Of course, the dragon continued to send him the hoped for hums to prove his existence, but otherwise he remained silent. Hitsugaya needed no words; that the dragon knew. There was no point lecturing someone when he already knew what he was doing was unapproved of. But there was even more to it than that.

Hitsugaya could sense it in every fiber of Hyourinmaru's existence. _The dragon understood._ And while he most certainly did not approve, he would continue to support his flesh and blood as he had always done.

He just wished that he would say something. Anything. It hurt, in a strange way that Hitsugaya couldn't get used to. That silence. It hurt.

But Hitsugaya would never admit it.

* * *

"Dammit!" Hitsugaya roared, throwing the book against the wall in his frustration. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!"

How long had it been? Four, five days? Maybe even six? He hadn't been counting. But he knew it was too long. It was far too long.

"Dammit!"

Nell watched him, once again hiding behind a bookcase. He had been perfectly fine a few minutes ago. A bit on edge, sure, but fine none-the-less. Then he finished flipping through that book, and all hell had broken loose. The fierce reiatsu he exerted felt as if it would crush her any minute.

"There's nothing! Nothing!" he continued to yell hoarsely, his throat dry. Whether it was from the screaming or from the lump gliding up his throat and threatening to break loose, he wasn't sure. "How can there be nothing?!"

He had searched through the endless tomes far into the night, every single day since he had arrived. This was _Urahara Kisuke's_ study, for goodness' sake! How could there not be a single piece of information?! He knew it had nothing to do with Urahara. It had nothing to do with Nell. He knew it was no one's fault; no one's but Ichimaru Gin's. But he had reached his limit. He had placed every last one of his strained hopes on that final volume. And in return, he had had them all crushed simultaneously.

Hitsugaya was powerless to control the consuming rage tearing him apart. Because if he did, he knew that there would no longer be anything to hold back the choking sting in his throat. That cruel lump that was fighting to invade his discipline and bring him crashing down into sobs.

Hitsugaya did not do that. He did not cry.

"Dammit!"

He felt that familiar churning in his stomach, those icy scales uncoiling, that took him over in battle, and he could no longer resist. He ran for the window, ignoring the glass in front of him, ignoring a teary-eyed Nell stumbling after him, and forced himself through, shattering the window pane as he did so. Skimming across treetops and rooftops, he didn't bother with wiping the blood from his forehead or hiding himself from passerby as he scanned for any sign of a hollow, anything he could slice in two with Hyourinmaru.

"Yo, little boy. Lookin' for me?"

Hitsugaya didn't even turn around, didn't even offer it an answer. Within seconds, he was out of his gigai, Hyourinmaru in hand.

It didn't stand a chance in hell.

* * *

"Oh my, oh my…" tsked a be-hatted man as he stepped into the dusty study and admired the broken window. His eyes narrowed as he followed Hitsugaya's spiking reiatsu through the neighborhood. "I take it he finished off the library then."

A closer inspection revealed a small collective of blood dripping from the glass still attached to the sill. Perhaps it was about time he called in a favor….

"Kisuke-oji-chan!" He barely had enough time to hear the voice before he was assaulted by an anxious Nell. Kneeling down, he pried her from his leg and held her steady by her shoulders. She never stopped howling. "Toushirou was scary! He threw the books and yelled and jumped out the window! And he tried to squish me! Like an evil shinigami! He was really, really mad! And he didn't say anything to Nell at all! Did Nell do something wrong? Did Nell make Toushirou mad?"

"No, no. Nell-chan didn't do anything wrong at all. The one Hitsugaya-kun's mad at is me," he replied with a poke to her nose.

Her eyes widened as she contemplated this new information. "Why?" she sniffed.

"'Cause Uncle Kisuke's a big, fat jerk!" he chimed.

"…jerk?"

"It means I'm a very cruel person that everybody loves to hate."

"Oh! You mean a basta-"

"What the _hell_ just happened!?" interrupted Nell from her epiphany as Abarai Renji charged up to the door, breathing heavily. He looked all around the room, from the strewn books to the broken window, then down at Urahara and Nell.

"Nothing of any importance," he grinned, picking the tiny arrancar up in his arms. "I was just minding my own business, and – bam! – off Hitsugaya-kun runs as if he can't even stand my presence or something! I just don't understand it!" Renji gave him one of his agitated looks before glancing at the broken window once more. Urahara ignored the concern for now. He had other eggs to fry. Or however that expression went.

"Now, it's about time for Ichigo to get out of school. Whaddya say we go pay him a visit, eh, Nell-chan?"

Nell's earlier distress instantly disappeared as she grinned so large it barely fit her face. "Let's go see Ichigo! I wanna surprise him and make him pee his pants!" she cheered excitedly as Renji's gaze was riveted upon them yet again.

"You wanna … what?"

"You heard the lady, Freeloader-san!" Urahara smirked maliciously. "We're going to go make Ichigo pee his pants. But even though I know how much you'd love to come, you have to watch the shop. Then maybe I'll call you by your actual name for once."

It was in this giddy manner that Urahara and Nell exited the room, leaving a disturbed yet amused Renji in their wake.

* * *

Several hours later, Hitsugaya trudged back into Urahara Shoten, feeling dismally like an unwilling prodigal son. Abarai was manning the store in his stead, sitting behind the counter and staring him down like a safe he couldn't crack. He could understand the concern, logically. He wasn't quite as beat up as he was simply caked in a layer of sweat and dirt, but he knew he must have appeared worse for the wear. He could understand the concern. But that wasn't to say it didn't annoy him.

"What are you looking at, Abarai?" he nearly hissed.

The Sixth Division fukutaichou was silent for a moment before he replied, his voice cool and steady. "Rukia's fully recovered. A few scars, but alive. She'll be going back to Karakura High tomorrow, to keep up her cover." Another pause. "Urahara's in the kitchen, talking with somebody."

An aggravated grunt was the only reply Hitsugaya offered as he continued through the store and to Urahara's homestead behind. What did Rukia's returning to school and Urahara's social life have to do with him? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He sighed, cupping his head in his hand.

It appeared Abarai was just as perceptive as Kurosaki.

Or maybe he was just that obvious.

"Kisuke, I'm not sure this is something I should be butting my head into."

Hitsugaya paused in his reflections. He recognized that voice, but he couldn't attach it to a face. Narrowing his eyes a fraction, he resumed his walk. He had to go through the kitchen to get to the bathroom anyway.

"Aw, don't be so modest. Besides, he's gone through the whole library. The whole thing! In less than a week! You're not butting in; I'm recruiting you."

Ah. So the conversation was about him. _Joy._

"You know what I mean. I'm hardly qualified for this sort of thing. I'd probably just screw him up."

"Not a problem. He's already screwed up."

A chuckle followed. "Kisuke, you're not helping."

It was at that point in the conversation that Hitsugaya made it to the open door and entered. He didn't get very far. The sight that met him stopped him in his tracks. There, sitting at one end of the kitchen table, was Urahara. At the other side of the table, robed in a shihakushou and modified haori, zanpakutou at his side, sat Kurosaki Isshin.

Silence reigned as the two men stared at Hitsugaya, and Hitsugaya returned the action. Urahara was smiling. A wicked, dastardly, insidious smile for all of its feigned innocence.

"Well," he finally managed, throat considerably dry, "that explains a lot."

"Doesn't it?" Urahara chirped, lifting his fan to cover his Cheshire grin.

Kurosaki remained silent, and Hitsugaya felt disturbingly like the man was looking right through him. This feeling was drastically different from the aura the insane, overbearing man had given off when Hitsugaya had seen him wrestling with his son. It was serious, calculating … aged. It was quickly becoming clear to him how the younger Kurosaki had grown so strong so fast.

"We were just talking about you, weren't we, Isshin?"

At this Kurosaki turned abruptly back to Urahara, his expression surprised. Before he could say anything however, Hitsugaya held up a hand to halt the conversation. "I really, _really_ don't want to know," he breathed before striding across the room and out the other door.

He needed to take a shower.

And he did not want whatever Urahara had stuffed up his ridiculous bucket hat plaguing his mind any further as he did so.

* * *

"_That_ was who you were talking about?" Isshin asked, eyes wide.

"Surprised, are you? You look almost as out of it as he did."

"I knew that shinigami were here; I knew there was a division head among them. But I never thought…"

"…it was him?" Urahara finished, basking in his friend's dumbfounded state.

"Yes," his friend replied grimly. "I've only seen him once or twice. He was never with the others, and he never exerted any reiatsu. I suppose in hindsight that alone should have made me suspicious. Only a division head could hold back his spirit pressure so thoroughly.

"Then again," Isshin suddenly added, concern beginning to win out over his surprise. "That reiatsu I just felt … was different. Very different. Very … wrong. It felt as if he wasn't holding it back at all. The only reason I was unaffected was because he was so worn out."

"Ah yes, that," Kisuke sighed melodramatically. "He mentioned that as one of the symptoms of the poison. It wasn't really much of an issue until his outburst this afternoon. I'm going to have to look into that. The poison's progression may be stimulated by stress…."

"Kisuke."

"Oh, yes. Where was I?" Urahara grinned.

"Some sort of outburst," Isshin clarified, clearly intent on learning everything there was to his little scheme before formulating an opinion.

"Yes. Like I said, he finished off the library. That's a week wasted in his book. As soon as it happened, his reiatsu nearly exploded. Most of that was anger though. I think the point it's at now is where it will stay for a while. The problem is that because he left Soul Society without consent he didn't have a limit placed on him. If you thought that what you just felt was bad, imagine if he really _wasn't_ holding back.

"But once again, I digress," Kisuke waved the frightening thought away as if it were nothing. "Apparently, by the time he had left his reiatsu had been so strong that it actually deterred his own officers from coming anywhere near him. Good for getting away unseen, bad for his officers. I'm estimating it will take another week or so before he progresses quite that far.

"He also mentioned a migraine as another symptom. I'm guessing that will come in another week or so as well. Then, finally, the pain."

Isshin was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. When he spoke it was with an interesting spark that most definitely had not been there before. Kisuke smirked. He was reeling him in.

"What … did you say his name was again?"

"Hitsugaya Toushirou, the youngest taichou to ever head a Gotei 13 division. Tenth Division, to be exact." And his friend's eyes widened yet another notch.

"Well, he _was_ anyway." At the look Isshin shot him, he continued. "I have my sources, and they've been looking into this mess. To be honest, I didn't think the library would do him any good; it was simply a stalling tactic. It seems he has yet to realize it, but I'm sure he will once he cools down. None-the-less, it worked. I've spoken with a few contacts, in Seireitei and otherwise. Seireitei's in a bit of a haze. No one can figure out why he left, so they pulled his rank and had him classified as a secondary threat. He's part of our little club now!"

Isshin did not appear anywhere near as pleased with his use of diction as Urahara was. But that was to be expected. Finally, the reply. Or as Urahara liked to call it: the inevitable giving-in-to-Kisuke's-evil-plans speech.

A wry smile signaled its beginning. "Honestly, Kisuke. You are officially the cruelest, most heartless man I know. This outdoes anything Ryuuken's ever thrown at me." He leaned toward Urahara, dark eyes gleaming with mischief despite his words. "You know very well I can't say no to a kid."

"Are you insinuating something, Isshin?"

"Not at all! I merely wish to offer a suggestion."

"Really now?" Kisuke drawled. "Do tell."

* * *

Newly bathed and both relieved and perturbed to find Nell missing, Hitsugaya had retreated to the highest spot he could find without appearing suspicious. He did not want another escapade like that afternoon. Because of his impulsiveness he had had to erase the memory of a young couple who had happened to see him run off. They had been rambling on and on about how it was impossible for a little kid to jump that far and whether or not he was some sort of government experiment to be used as a super soldier in World War III. It had not been pleasant.

And so, here he was, sitting on the roof and basking in what little moonlight the artificially lit night had to offer. A thought occurred to him, and out of habit, he reached into his back pocket for his denreishinki or, as the substitute shinigami and his friends had dubbed it, his cell phone. It wasn't there. Of course it wasn't. Things like that could be tracked after all.

For a moment, he wondered whether he should go steal Abarai's, but he decided against it. He wasn't in the mood for that at the moment. Maybe tomorrow.

A soft "hup!" signaled the arrival of someone else. He could instantly tell who it was.

"What do you want, Kurosaki?" he asked without turning around. Not only was he not in the mood, but he wasn't sure he could look the boy in the face without being reminded of his father.

The teenaged red head sighed before sitting down next to him. "I didn't get a single call about hollows today," he said simply. Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes, still refusing to acknowledge him. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No."

"Oh."

Silence.

"Is this what you do all day?" Kurosaki began again, leaning back and looking up at the sky. "Sit up here and just … do nothing?"

"I don't 'do nothing,'" he muttered, accepting the fact that Kurosaki wasn't about to leave any time soon.

"What do you do then?"

"I think. Which is more than I can say about you."

Kurosaki reacted unexpectedly well. He was obviously peeved, but he did his best not to act on that annoyance. Hitsugaya had to give him credit for that. "Just thinking, eh? Sounds kinda depressing."

"The fact that I use my brain is depressing to you?" he pressed on, venting a bit more steam. The way he felt, he figured he'd never fully rid himself of it, no matter how many hollows he disintegrated or how many shinigami substitutes he provoked. The thought itself almost depressed him from his haughtiness.

"Kinda-sorta, I guess," Kurosaki replied. Hitsugaya finally turned to face him, a white brow curving scornfully upward. "I mean, you are a genius and all. Tensai or whatever, right? But still, I just think you think _too much_."

"You do realize the irony of your last statement, right?"

The red head frowned, staring the white crowned taichou down. "You get what I mean. Here, tell me. What were you thinking about before I showed up?"

Hitsugaya was silent. He had been thinking about what a pain it had been to wipe that idiot couple's minds. He had been reflecting on human stupidity, nothing more. But then…

Then he had begun to wonder whether he could contact Matsumoto. He had just wanted to hear her voice again, even if it was yelling at him. He had wanted to tell her why he had left, given her something, anything, to make up for what he had done. He had wanted someone to know he was still there.

"See? You're doing it. Right now. You're thinking too much," Kurosaki scolded when Hitsugaya didn't respond.

"It's none of your business," he said coldly, looking away again.

Kurosaki stood up, and Hitsugaya could feel his eyes boring into his back. "Yeah, yeah. So you've told me. Look, I just came up here to tell you Getaboushi and Yoruichi have enrolled you and Renji back into Karakura High. You'll be starting tomorrow. Wake up on time."

Before Kurosaki could take another step, Hitsugaya had jumped to his feet as well. "What?! Why?! I have no reason to go back!"

The red head looked him up and down, frown lightening into a casual smirk. "If you keep working during school hours, a truant officer's gonna show up and drag you off anyhow," he grunted, resuming his retreat once more.

"Besides," he added, smirk broadening just before he leaped back down to the alleyway below, "school is the best cure for thinking."

Hitsugaya continued to stare blankly for some time before he finally recomposed himself. Then slowly but surely, he followed Kurosaki down from the roof and went back inside.

Urahara Kisuke had better be praying.

Because he was about to face the wrath of a 4'4" blizzard that had left countless Eleventh Division shinigami running home and crying to mommy.

And no amount of witty colloquialisms could save him.


	10. New Rhythm Blues

The newest installment. This is where things start to get hectic. A lot of the chapters up until now were focused solely on character development and setting up the plot. I guess you could call this chapter the first real step toward the climax. I hope it lives up to the hype.

Ichigo and Hitsugaya are such fun characters to write when they're stuck with each other. Especially when they're trying to be serious. The part where they keep pushing each other out of the way had me laughing the entire time I was writing it.

They're both such adorable, little control freaks.

* * *

"_Never before have we had so little time in which to do so much."_

_Franklin D. Roosevelt_

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

New Rhythm Blues

* * *

"Look, it's really not that big of a deal. Just a coincidence. It's not like you have to talk to them or anything. So chill already."

"Was that supposed to be a joke, Abarai? It wasn't funny."

Abarai Renji tried to hold back a snicker as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and stared up at the ceiling. Hitsugaya had actually done some pretty scary things in his quest to hunt down and annihilate Urahara the night before. But Urahara had still won in the end, when he used Nell as a shield to protect himself.

He had wanted to laugh and punch the guy in the balls at the same time for doing it, but it had certainly gotten the job done. Hitsugaya had calmed down and had consented to returning to school on the grounds that he didn't have to baby sit the little arrancar anymore. Nell wasn't quite as thrilled as Hitsugaya when his conditions were accepted, but they had assured her that she'd still be able to see him in the mornings and evenings. She had taken a liking to Yoruichi as well, and upon hearing that the Goddess of Flash would be her new daytime friend, she too said it was okay "for Toushirou to go play with Ichigo" during the day.

Currently, the two of them were stuck out in the hall next to classroom 1-3, waiting for their new teacher to invite them in and introduce them to a room full of high school students they had already met several months ago but who didn't remember ever meeting them. It was an interesting situation. And Hitsugaya did not seem to be enjoying it.

Especially when it came to the fact that this particular room would also be shared by Kurosaki and Co.

"It's that damn Urahara," the pint-sized taichou grumbled under his breath, arms crossed tightly in front of his chest. His shirt was untucked as it had often been before, something that had always struck Renji as contradictory to his usual work-a-holic image. And seeing as the shirt was about two sizes too big, it only made him look even shorter than he already was. Because of this amusing spectacle, it took a moment for Renji to process what his superior was saying. "He's trying to leash me, keep me under watch. He honestly doesn't think I can handle myself. That bastard…"

The red head frowned, getting a good look at his companion. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets before turning the other way. "Yo, Hitsugaya-taichou," he began hesitantly. "What … What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for those ridiculously slow students to shut up so we can go inside already," Hitsugaya huffed.

"No, I mean … why'd they send you back here … to the living world?"

Hitsugaya's grimace became noticeably more aggravated. "Not to chase after you morons, if that's what you're asking."

"If that's not the reason, then why?" Renji pressed.

"Abarai, everyone has something that he absolutely must do, whether he wants to or not. I have already let you do yours; now let me do mine in peace."

Renji wasn't sure whether he should ask his next question. After an answer like that, he almost felt guilty. Almost. But his curiosity combined with stubbornness won him over in the end. Eyes narrowing, he looked down at Hitsugaya in order to gouge his reaction.

"Where's Ran?"

He watched as Hitsugaya stiffened, then spat out, "She's not here. I do not need to take her with me wherever I go. I am more than capable on my own."

"Of course… I'm sorry … Hitsugaya-taichou."

Hitsugaya looked as if he was about to say something more, but the classroom door opened and a woman with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail poked her head out and beckoned them inside. "Alrighty class! As Rukia explained, she has returned from her trip to America and brought with her two very, very distant relatives who'll be staying with us for a while. Hitsugaya Toushirou and Abarai Renji, class. Class, Hitsugaya Toushirou and Abarai Renji."

Silence reigned as the students stared at the two shinigami in awe. And suddenly, Renji couldn't help but feel a little sorry for Hitsugaya. At least last time he had been surrounded by people so bizarre and wild that no one had paid quite as much attention to him. But this time, the taichou had only Renji, his exact opposite in both personality and appearance. Their contrasts only added to the students' wonder. Many were openly gaping.

Rukia offered them a thumbs up as Ichigo hid his head against his desk in a futile attempt to obscure his laughter.

"Well, now that that's over, you two can go sit down in any empty seat you find," she concluded simply, waving them away from the front of the room.

Renji chuckled sheepishly as Hitsugaya cradled his forehead in his hand.

Something told him it was going to be an interesting day.

* * *

"Well…" a voice trailed off, its owner overlooking Karakura High School in amusement. A large smirk was the only thing visible upon the figure's face as he pulled his hat down over his eyes and retreated further into the recesses of the sky.

"Ain' this just my lucky day."

* * *

Hitsugaya had to admit that Kurosaki may have had a point when he said that school would help him avoid thinking too much. He would have to follow up that admittance however, with the phrase "in the worst possible way." He had found it rather hard to focus on his stress-inducing worries with the various students in class 1-3 consistently interrupting his contemplations in one way or another with much more annoying and shallow stress-inducing worries.

First had been Tatsuki, making fun of him for a cover story that Kuchiki had come up with. Then Asano, nearly tackling him between third and fourth period as he cried and wailed about how nobody had told him that Hitsugaya was transferring and about how he was being kicked out of the loop. Then Kurosaki's and Abarai's attempts to stifle laughing fits as they whispered to each other, making it very clear who they were whispering about.

And that was just the people he knew.

His mood was uplifted far more than it had been for weeks just knowing that it was finally over. This effect was soon hampered however, when Abarai mentioned they'd be returning the next day.

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Kuchiki asked as the large group began filing out of the school building. "You didn't seem to mind as much last time. To be honest, I find that I rather enjoy it."

"Yeah, but then _you_ didn't get a confession of love on your first day, did you?" Kurosaki snickered as Hitsugaya felt the veins in his forehead threatening to pop for the umpteenth time that day.

Kojima Mizuiro had seen to it that he introduce Hitsugaya to everything on campus with legs and a skirt. Upon sight, one of the girls had confessed undying love to him. Needless to say, he dismissed her for an overemotional fool, and his image of Kojima had been permanently skewed when he then proceeded to ask the rejected girl if she would mind going out with him instead. She had agreed wholeheartedly.

Hitsugaya did not, nor would he ever, understand hormones.

"It's not fair!" wailed a dejected Asano, only inches from Hitsugaya's shoulder. The boy yanked himself away as Asano went into spastic hysterics. "How do you do it?! You're just like that traitor, Mizuiro! You-You don't even have to _try_!"

"Can it, moron," Tatsuki grumbled, ramming her school bag into the back of his head.

As casual violence and much laughter ensued, Hitsugaya rolled his eyes and turned away to see Kurosaki staring off into the sky. His eyes were wide, brows furrowed, and one of his hands was inching steadily toward the single gikongon in his back pocket. He frowned.

"What's wrong, Kurosaki?"

The red head hastily shook his head and smiled weakly. "Nothing," he muttered before waving his hand in the air at the others. "Hey, guys, I gotta go! I forgot about something I promised my old man! I'll meet up with you all later, okay?" he called to everyone before running off. Hitsugaya narrowed his eyes, and with a sigh, took off after him.

Kurosaki was a terrible liar.

"Ichigo! Hitsugaya-taichou!" Rukia bellowed before attempting to chase after them, but Abarai held her back.

"Let them be," he breathed. "If it was a hollow or anything dangerous, we'd know, right?"

"Yeah," she sighed reluctantly before getting an evil glint in her eye that made Renji flinch from past experience. "Last one to Urahara's gets to be the dummy for training!" she shouted before taking off at lightning fast speeds. Orihime, Tatsuki, Asano, and Kojima followed, leaving him and Sado in the dust.

"You wouldn't dare … would you? Rukia? Rukia! Oi! Wait up!"

* * *

"Why are you following me?" Ichigo grumbled as the white crowned taichou caught up to him.

Toushirou gave him an "isn't it obvious?" sort of glare before spouting off a list of reasons. "You ran off without any believable explanation. Your feeble attempts to control your reiatsu are even more lacking than usual. You're sweating. You're reaching for your gikongon every five seconds. I'm sure Rukia noticed. Actually, I'm surprised she didn't follow as well."

Ichigo wanted to hit him. Hard. Little kid or not, he could be really annoying sometimes. "I don't care. I'm glad she's not here. And I don't want _you_ around either!"

"Ah, but _we_ do."

Ichigo froze. Toushirou stopped a few inches behind him, and both stared to the left at the man who had just lowered himself out of the sky and into the vacant alleyway before them. "Long time no see, ne, Ichigo?"

"Shinji," he growled, hand twitching for his back pocket. "What do you want now?"

"Aw, don' worry, Ichigo. It's not like I'm coming after ya 'cause I wanna drag ya back or anythin'," Hirako Shinji grinned, tipping his outlandish hat to the two boys. "To be honest, I didn' think ya'd ever be comin' back at all. Yer way too weak to be runnin' off like that. But I guess ya realized that already, ne?"

Fists clenching, the red head tried not to appear fazed by the vaizard's words. He noticed Toushirou looking more curious than anything else, watching the other two converse. If you could call it that. He remembered the shrimp telling him something very similar when he had come back from Hueco Mundo, and his fists relaxed slightly.

Shinji didn't seem to notice. He only stepped out of the air and onto the ground before continuing. "Now, imagine my surprise when I find out that another prospective new member o' our li'l group's been discovered at Karakura High. An' then, to find out that he's not only in the same class as Ichigo, but he's even walkin' home with him."

"The _hell_ are you talking about, Shinji?! 'Another prospective new member'? What kind of bull is that?!"

Before he could say anything more however, Toushirou held up his hand in front of his waste and stepped forward. The glare he wore now was a far cry from the curiosity his expression had housed a minute ago. It was almost frightening. Or maybe that was because of the reiatsu Ichigo felt spilling out of him. "Get to the point," he hissed.

Shinji's grin widened. "You, my fine, white-headed brat, have peaked the interest o' the infamous vaizard."

Ichigo's eyes widened in disbelief. _What the hell was going on? Toushirou? The vaizard? Why?! _He couldn't hold back any longer. "Whaddya mean 'peaked your interest'?! He's a shinigami! And he was here before, but you never said anything then!" he shouted, pushing Toushirou's arm aside.

"Well, this time's different," Shinji countered brusquely. He advanced, depleting the few feet between them until he was directly in front of the two high school students. Then he leaned down in Toushirou's face, eye to eye, nose to nose. Ichigo could feel the sparks flying as both refused to back down the slightest inch. And he had to admit, he was rather impressed when the kid won out and Shinji was the first to blink. The feeling didn't last long.

"Because this time…" the vaizard grinned devilishly, "…I smell hollow."

The substitute shinigami watched as nearly every hair on the back of Toushirou's neck stood on end and he tensed to the point where he doubted the shrimp was even breathing.

That was the last straw. He grabbed the back of Toushirou's collar and yanked him backward so that he was once again in front, ignoring the shrimp's mortified protests. "Are you insane?!" he began, but then corrected himself. "Even more insane?! I just said he was a shinigami! Of course, he smells like hollow! He beats the crap out of them every day!"

"No," Shinji clarified, pouting as he stood up straight again after being deprived of his staring contest partner. "Smells like that fade away as fast as the hollow. But he _reeks_ o' hollow, all over his insides."

Ichigo tried to understand what that meant. He really did. But it just wasn't registering. "Are you saying … he's … like…?" he attempted to ask, pointing from the scowling shinigami taichou to the once more grinning vaizard. He couldn't even say it.

"Nope," Shinji sighed anticlimactically, shrugging his shoulders at the look of disbelief on Ichigo's face. "We thought he was, but when I got close it was obvious he wasn'. With vaizard, the hollow's all in the head. But he's got it everywhere. Kinda disgustin' really."

The vaizard sighed again, milking the moment for all it was worth. "Aw well. Too high expectations, I guess. After you came along an' all. Guess I'll be goin' then."

It wasn't until Toushirou hollered "Wait!" that Ichigo realized he had stopped spitting death threats at him. Shinji turned around, a single blond brow rising in expectation. This time it was Toushirou who advanced, seeing as Ichigo had by now lost the will to hold him back. What could the shrimp want to say to _him_?

"You said you sense … hollow in me," he began slowly, looking up at the vaizard with an expression Ichigo could no longer read. Shinji nodded, his smirk making a magnificent comeback. "Know any … specifics?"

"An' why do ya think I'd tell 'em to ya if I did?" Shinji asked, bowing slightly in anticipation.

"A hunch," he replied, his tone betraying no emotion whatsoever.

"Oh? What sorta hunch?"

"That you're just as curious as I am."

Ichigo continued to stare as Shinji leaned back, grin wavering. The glint in his golden-brown eyes was unmistakable. He wasn't joking around anymore. He meant business. "I can' tell much, but I know some people who might be able to. But, then again, they're not all that fond o' shinigami. They might jus' decide to kill ya as soon as ya walk in the door. So ya can follow me if ya really wanna know, but I won' be held responsible for whatever happens."

The be-hatted vaizard began to walk away and Toushirou took a step forward to pursue him, but Ichigo grabbed him by the collar again, Shinji's words having finally convinced him to stop ogling and start taking action. He jerked the boy next to him, crouching down to whisper frantically in his ear. "What the hell is going on?! Hollow?! Specifics?! You really wanna _follow_ him?! _Him?!_ If you don't start talking right now, I'm gonna-!"

"Tsk, tsk, Ichigo." The red headed teen nearly jumped ten feet into the air when Shinji suddenly appeared right beside him again. "If ya haven' been able to tell the difference when _yer_ the one who actually knew him before, then perhaps ya really are jus' a hopeless idiot after all."

Ichigo's eyes widened in realization as Toushirou pulled himself away and undid the top button of his shirt just in case Ichigo decided to yank on the collar again.

"_There's something … weird about you," Kurosaki frowned as if looking for the right words to explain his point and not finding them. Hitsugaya's eyes narrowed. "I can't explain it. It's just … not right."_

"_What makes you say that?" he questioned softly._

"_I don't know. I just … feel it, you know?"_

"I'm coming too," he huffed, slinging his book bag back over his shoulder and standing up straight.

Toushirou didn't look very happy, turning around to glare at the shinigami substitute as if he wanted to break his neck, but he'd just have to live with it. Ichigo was going to get his answers. Whether it was from Toushirou or the vaizard. He was going to get them.

"Well, then. Now that that's all settled, let's get goin'," Shinji grinned. "Preferably _before_ the world ends, ne?"

* * *

Kuchiki Rukia looked out the window. Again. Just like she had every five minutes for the past two hours.

This was getting out of hand. Ichigo should have come back home by now. He had said he would be right back, hadn't he? He just had to run some errand for his dad. Yet they had waited for him at Urahara's all afternoon, and he had never shown up. Neither had Hitsugaya-taichou.

Everyone kept assuring her that he'd run off before, disappeared for days on end, and had wound up just fine. Better and stronger, in fact. Besides, he had only been gone for a few hours. Teenagers needed their space, right? It wasn't that big of a deal. Even if anything happened, Ichigo could take care of himself. And with Hitsugaya around as well, no force on earth or anywhere else would be able to harm them.

She knew all of it was true. They were right; there was nothing to worry about. So why was she still worried?

"Rukia-nee-san! Dinner's ready!"

"Alright! I'll be there in a minute, Yuzu!" she called back to the young homemaker in the kitchen. Grumbling inaudibly to herself, she shoved her make-up work back into her backpack and replaced the pillows and the empty Kon stuffed animal she had tossed on the floor so that she could do aforementioned make-up work. She paused as she stared at the lifeless plushy.

Ichigo had gotten into the habit of taking Kon with him to school in candy form. He had waved the subject away with a grumpy, "He's always jumping out of your backpack and nearly getting himself caught! It's easier this way. Besides, he's due for some punishment for something or other, right?"

Rukia couldn't help wondering though, whether there was some deeper reason for it.

With a sigh, she pushed the thought aside and trudged out of the room she now shared with Karin and Yuzu.

"Rukia-chaaan! It's terrible! Terrible!" The shinigami stepped aside as Kurosaki Isshin ran at her in an attempt to hug her, causing him to bulldoze into the side of the doorframe. He crumpled to the floor, now crying openly. Karin rolled her eyes, and Yuzu cringed in sympathy. "Rukia-chan! How could you be so cruel?! First Ichigo, and now you! Nobody loves Daddy anymore!"

"Shut up, moron! You're ruining my appetite!" the more violent of the twins scolded. "He'll come home when he wants to. Though I wouldn't be surprised if he never came back as long as you're around."

Rukia frowned, turning to face the dejected heap that was Kurosaki senior. "You mean … you didn't ask him to do anything for you today?" she asked.

"Huh? Of course not! He was supposed to help with the clinic today!" the man pouted, then appeared suddenly shocked. "Is that what it is? Does Daddy make him do too much when what he should really be doing is nurturing the child's heart still beating within his oldest son?!"

Rukia wasn't listening anymore. She grabbed the first jacket she could find and began running out the door. "I'm going out! Save me some dinner, please!"

"Rukia-nee-san!" Yuzu waved her ladle in the air in protest but to no avail. Rukia was already gone.

Kurosaki Isshin trudged over to the wall and flattened himself against the large memorial poster of his late wife. "I'm a failure as a father…" Yuzu tried to comfort him, but Karin could only stare at the now closed door, chopsticks still hanging from her lips.

"I should've known that idiot was lying!" Rukia huffed, turning a corner. "He was so flustered, I could've knocked him over with a flick to the forehead! Hitsugaya-taichou could tell! I should've noticed too! I should've realized something was wrong!

"Darn it, Ichigo! You had better be there!"

Finally, she rounded on Urahara Shoten. Disregarding the 'Closed' sign on the door, she kicked it open and charged in.

"Where's Ichigo!?"

"Where's Hitsugaya-taichou!?"

Rukia nearly tripped over her own two feet at what she saw before her. Renji was cowering as he tried his best to keep the situation under control. Urahara was spouting all the reason and logic he could muster as he rubbed at a gruesome looking bump on the top of his head. Yoruichi sat in the corner playing with Nell, taking great pleasure in watching the spectacle unfold. Ururu was fretting, torn between Urahara's obvious need for assistance and Nell's death grip on her wrist. Jinta was cheering in hopes for more bloodshed.

And in the middle of all the chaos…

"Matsumoto-san!"

* * *

Chapter Nine End

* * *

And RadiantBeam takes the gold.


	11. Mask of Another Kind

Hn. Is it possible to get into Hueco Mundo with a Hell Butterfly? I wonder…

And I think I just created a new crack pairing. Hitsugaki. xD Their little conversation really cracked me up. I can just imagine poor Ichigo trying to beat away his dirty, dirty thoughts.

Unfortunately, the next chapter will be late. About a week late probably, but it shouldn't be delayed any longer than that. I just need to sort out things with school and tweak the plot a bit. As much as I love writing, oral presentations on dead poets and timed essays on old, romantic novels have never really been my thing.

* * *

"_If the facts don't fit the theory, change the facts.__"_

_Albert Einstein_

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

Mask of Another Kind

* * *

"Okay, so everybody's settled then?" asked Urahara, donning his bucket hat once more and looking pointedly at Matsumoto Rangiku.

Said shinigami was currently sitting, cross-legged and arms folded beneath her breasts, in-between Abarai Renji and Kuchiki Rukia, fuming like a volcano past due for explosion. She had been subdued by Urahara and Renji, and Rukia's barging in had sobered her somewhat, but that wasn't to say she wasn't still pissed. She had gone through a lot of trouble to get here. So it stood to reason that when Urahara said he'd tell her where her taichou was only if she put on a maid's outfit (She didn't want to know where he had gotten one in the first place.), she was more than a little angry with him. He had insisted it had been only a joke, but right now she had no time to deal with such.

She did not reply to his question, choosing instead to show her distaste by pouting at the man and sticking out her tongue. It appeared Urahara took this as a 'yes.' "Alrighty then. Let's solve this like we're not a bunch of raving lunatics for once, ne? Now, whatever could be the problem here?" he grinned.

Renji pointed at Rangiku; Rangiku pointed at Urahara; and Rukia could only sigh.

"Ichigo and Hitsugaya-taichou ran off right after school. They haven't come back since," she muttered, pulling her knees up to her chin. "I was hoping they'd be here, but-"

"Then Taichou is really here?!" Rangiku interrupted, grabbing the smaller shinigami by her shoulders. Rukia stared in awe at the fukutaichou's desperate eyes. "He's here, in Karakura?! And he's okay?!"

A large hand reached out for Rangiku's head and pulled her back into Renji's twitching face. She waved at him sheepishly as he released his fingers from her unkempt locks. "Whaddya mean 'is he really here'? Of course, he's here. That shorty's been scowling around here longer than we've been back from Hueco Mundo. I honestly have no idea how you put up with him all the time."

"Oh, thank goodness," Rangiku sighed with obvious relief. "I was right. He's here. He's not with Aizen. He's not off on his own. I knew he couldn't be; I knew he wouldn't. I knew it. He's here." And yet, she also knew that deep down, she had still been afraid. She'd had no idea why he left, no idea why he ran off like that. She hadn't known what sort of condition she would find him in. But, no… She reminded herself, "I was right."

"The hell are you blabbing on about?" Renji frowned at her, eyes narrowing.

"Either he came to Karakura or he ran off somewhere alone in the living world. Those were the only things that made sense. If he had gone into Rukongai or Hueco Mundo, he wouldn't need a Hell Butterfly."

"Matsumoto-san, what are you talking about?" Rukia joined Renji in his concerned questioning.

"I believe she is referring to our little Hitsugaya-kun's current situation, ne?" Urahara looked down Rangiku, still grinning. Dammit. He _so_ knew something.

"Current situation?" Rukia echoed, turning to the salesman. Renji was eerily silent.

"Ah," Rangiku sighed knowingly, waving the smaller woman's question away. "I didn't think he'd tell any of you. He can get so stubborn sometimes. _This guy_ on the other hand," she grimaced at Urahara, "had better start talking. Now."

"Hitsugaya-kun has indeed been staying here since he arrived approximately seven days ago," Urahara replied, matching Matsumoto's stare with an equal though calmer intensity. "But as Miss Rukia over there already said, both he and Ichigo are not here at present. I'd advise that you wait until he gets back and ask him the rest yourself."

"Oh, no. Definitely not," Rangiku spat as she stood up and began to stomp toward the exit. "I am _not_ letting him run away from me again!" Before she could make it out the door however, a muscular man in tight clothes and an apron blocked her way. She whirled back around to face Urahara once again.

"C'mon. He's not here _at present_, but he'll _be back_. That, if nothing else, you can count on 100," he cocked his head innocently as Matsumoto stepped away from the doorway but stayed standing, expression still defiant.

Rukia pulled herself to her feet as well, and Renji followed her, though he was decidedly less anxious than his long-time friend as he did so. "Matsumoto-san," the ebony haired girl looked Rangiku in the eye. "What's going on with Hitsuga-"

Renji stopped her as he held out a hand, turning from Rangiku to Urahara and back again. "Hitsugaya-taichou isn't under any orders, is he, Ran?"

The buxom fukutaichou folded her arms across her chest once again, drawing in a deep breath. "No," she seethed through tightly clenched teeth. "He left the same way you two did. The only difference is that, with Taichou, no one can agree on why."

* * *

Hitsugaya knew very little about the vaizard. And what all he did know, he had gotten from books and records. He knew that they were shinigami who had somehow found a way to harness the power of hollows for themselves, much like Aizen's arrancar but vice-versa. He knew that they were currently neutral, neither a threat nor an ally. And he also knew that they harbored a strong dislike toward shinigami, among other groups, prompted by their exile.

What he hadn't known was that Kurosaki Ichigo was one of them. No, he corrected himself. Kurosaki was not one of them, he was like them. He had been very adamant about that during the short time they had spoken as they followed this Shinji character around Karakura. It was a strange concept, but it made sense.

Frown deepening, he took another long look at Shinji's back as he swayed confidently onward. He had said Hitsugaya smelled like hollow. Nell had said the very same thing. And she had said that Kurosaki smelled that way too.

So … the vaizard harness the power of a hollow … by becoming hollows?

Hitsugaya did _not_ like the sound of that.

"We're here," twittered the vaizard as he motioned toward a warehouse.

Hitsugaya instantly recognized it. It was the third gathering of reiatsu he had sensed when he had first arrived in the living world. But now the intensity of what lay inside was hidden behind some sort of barrier. He could just barely sense it. He swallowed. Why had the barrier been so weak before? Could it be that they had held an interest in him ever since he had appeared? That would not bode well when he ended up disappointing them. And not only was he going to do that, but he was going to demand something from them.

"Are ya gonna go inside or what?" Hirako Shinji grinned, reaching out to open the large door.

"There is no 'what,'" the white crowned boy replied with hasty irritation. He had not become the youngest taichou to ever grace the Gotei 13 by dwelling on doubts.

Shinji managed to open the door about three-quarters of the way before something from inside rushed out in a blur and knuckled him right on his jaw.

Hitsugaya stared in stunned silence, Kurosaki yawning behind him, as the something then proceeded to lift the vaizard by the collar of his shirt and shake him with frustration. "When you go grocery shopping, you're _supposed_ to come back, you idiot! You don't wander around for a whole stinkin' day! Hacchi's stomach has been growling so loud, I haven't heard a single one of my own thoughts for hours!"

The something, Hitsugaya noted, was a young girl about his own height with blond hair held in pig-tails and who was wearing a red jogging outfit. A zanpakutou was strapped to her back, much like his own would be if he hadn't been in a gigai. That meant … she was one of the vaizard?

He watched as she tossed one of her sandals into the air, caught it, and smacked her companion upside the head once more.

_Definitely not what he had been expecting._

"And what about the new kid, huh?! You said you knew where to find him!" the girl continued to berate Shinji, until he lifted a shaky finger in Hitsugaya's and Kurosaki's direction.

"Huh?" she dropped the vaizard to the ground as she cocked her head and took a good look at the two guests. "Wow. You actually did something right. And you even brought Ichigo back in one piece."

Kurosaki shook his head vehemently before barking, "Nobody _brought_ me back! I'm just here with this guy."

"Hn? And why would he need you around?"

"I don't," interjected Hitsugaya, just barely getting even that much in before Kurosaki bounced off again.

"'Cause I ain't letting you touch him."

Hirako Shinji finally pulled himself back to his feet, nursing a bloody lip. He grabbed the girl's shoulder in a grip that was both endearing and frustrated in its stiffness. "He's not what we thought, Hiyori. Turns out he's jus' some twisted shinigami," he managed, spitting out some of the blood that had accumulated in his mouth. "Says he wants answers outta us."

"He's not one of us?" she frowned, folding her arms across her chest. "Then why the hell didja bring him here?"

"I told him ya wouldn' like him, but he came anyway."

"You told him, did you?" the girl Hitsugaya now knew was Hiyori turned to face him with a scowl to match Kurosaki's on his worst days. "Then he's an idiot."

She had her zanpakutou in hand so fast, he had only enough time to grab his gikongan dispenser before he was forced to duck and roll. Kurosaki jumped in the other direction, reaching for his own gikongan as well. Hitsugaya nearly choked on the hard candy in his haste, the jolt of his soul being torn from his gigai leaving him breathless.

She came at him again, just as quickly as before, and he yanked Hyourinmaru none-too-gracefully from his sheath to meet the full force of the blow. Metal on metal, and he felt the soles of his feet scream as they were propelled backward by the laws of physics. He swore the friction was burning through his sandals.

He could hear Kurosaki yelling something or other to Shinji, but he couldn't see. His vision was entirely focused on the face in front of him. The small vaizard was looking angrier and angrier by the second. Finally, she could no longer stand the stalemate. Pulling back just enough to throw him off balance, she twisted her zanpakutou and went in for another strike.

The reiatsu she brought forth was much more intense this time, and he had not been expecting it. He pulled Hyourinmaru in front of his chest to meet her blade, but when the blow connected the force threw him backward. He crashed right through the half-open warehouse doorway, plastic and metal bending and coiling to admit him.

When he finally stopped skidding, he pushed himself up into a sitting position via his elbows. The back of his head was killing him. As was the rest of his backside. But it was livable, and so he ignored it to the best of his ability. His grip on Hyourinmaru's hilt tightened as he felt many unwelcome eyes on him and the girl stepped forward, entering the warehouse after him.

Fighting like this wasn't going to work. He could feel the reiatsu of at least five or six more vaizard. That left him severely outnumbered, Kurosaki or no. The whole point of this was to gain information to help him survive, not to get himself killed. He needed to convince this girl that he was both trustworthy and deserving while knowing that he was neither. He stood up, noticing a few of the other vaizard doing the same. They didn't know what was going on, but he doubted they were going to side with him. He took a deep breath and lowered his zanpakutou. It was time for the web of lies to be spun.

Well, perhaps he could get by on a half truth instead of a straight out lie.

"Listen! I may be a shinigami, but I might as well be in the same situation as you!" he announced. She didn't look willing to listen, but he continued none-the-less. "I was fukutaichou under Matsumoto-taichou of the Tenth Division. If you were a shinigami once, then you should know that on coming to the living world all fukutaichou and taichou are required to have a limit placed on them. I have none. I'm not here on behalf of Soul Society or even shinigami. I am here on behalf of myself because I need answers that Soul Society can't give me. And I'm not leaving until I get them!"

He glared defiantly at the girl as Kurosaki finally ran inside behind her, Shinji in tow. If she called his bluff, Kurosaki and he would have to run for it. He doubted they'd give chase as long as the two of them made it out of the initial area. But it didn't look like they'd have to.

The girl, Hiyori, raised her head as she too lowered her zanpakutou. "And what makes you think we'll give you those answers?"

"You have no reason to," he replied simply. "And all I have to give to you in return is myself and that guy." He pointed to Kurosaki as he said this, the red head's jaw dropping to the floor.

"_What_ did you just say?!"

They ignored him, Hiyori cracking her first smirk in Hitsugaya's presence. "Why would we want _you_?"

"I wouldn't know. But, either way, it's all I can give. Perhaps I can offer you a … favor in the near future?"

Her smirk disappeared as quickly as it had come. "The vaizard don't need favors from shinigami."

"When Aizen begins his war, _everyone_ will need favors," he replied as stony faced as ever.

"Ne, calm down, Hiyori-chan. Can't you feel it?" The question was provided by a very effeminate looking man strumming a guitar.

The largest of the group, a rather egg-shaped man, stepped down to the area where Hitsugaya and Sarugaki were staring each other down. "I agree. And I must say, I'm rather interested. I've never felt anything quite like it. I don't mind."

Hiyori, though not without a bit of discontent grumbling, finally sheathed her zanpakutou after one last push from Shinji. "You better make it quick, Hacchi," she grunted, turning away.

Kurosaki stepped forward as the egg-shaped vaizard, Hacchi, stared down into Hitsugaya's still glaring face. Hitsugaya had not sheathed Hyourinmaru as of yet, and he was not about to. But as Kurosaki relaxed, he felt it would be okay to at least release some of his tension now that the Hiyori problem had been leashed.

"Hnn…" trailed the large vaizard as he lifted a finger and traced it along Hitsugaya's body without actually touching the young shinigami. "It's hollow all right, but it's faint. It's only noticeable because it's spread throughout the entire body."

"Through the blood stream," Hitsugaya prompted. But Hacchi shook his head.

The former taichou's eyes widened in disbelief at the vaizard's reply. "Not the blood. It's being distributed by the central and peripheral nervous system. As I said, I've never felt anything like it."

"If it's distributed by the nervous system, then … it isn't a substance but an…" He was lucky to manage that much through his drying throat, but he was even luckier that the large vaizard finished for him.

"An electrical impulse."

Hitsugaya couldn't believe it. It made perfect sense. It explained why, when the wound had caused him pain, it had traveled via his spinal chord. It explained how it could affect his senses. It explained why his reiatsu was affected, as both electricity and reiatsu were forms of energy. It even explained how it could shut down his body's systems despite the fact that nothing was wrong with them, as the brain was a large part of the central nervous system. But he couldn't believe it.

"If there's no toxin," he choked, more to himself than to anyone else, "then there's no anti-toxin."

* * *

Hirako Shinji and Sarugaki Hiyori watched as Ichigo hauled the tiny, white headed brat away from Hachigen and off into the night. The brat had been more than a little startled after Hacchi had taken a look, but as the two had talked on, he had seemed to regain himself a bit, gleaning any and all information he could from the genial and less biased vaizard and even going on to talk a bit with Mashiro.

If Shinji had a guess, he'd say the kid was just skilled at hiding it.

"Shinji," he heard from Hiyori. She was still staring at the retreating backs of their recent guests, her scowl as fierce as ever. "I swung at him three times."

The taller vaizard nodded. There was no need for words.

"Fukutaichou my ass."

* * *

Ichigo walked a foot or two in front of Toushirou as they headed home. Lisa and Kensei had kept him company as Hachigen and Mashiro had hounded the mini taichou. It had not been pleasant. Between the tense silence and the never-ending basketball gibberish, he wasn't exactly sure which had annoyed him more. And all the while, Toushirou had been talking a mile a minute about stuff that made no sense whatsoever.

The red head allowed himself a deep breath. He was going to ask. And if the shrimp didn't want to answer, than he'd just force the answer out of him. "Okay. I know you're all about keeping to yourself and being stubborn and all aloof, but I am _not_. So if you don't tell me what that was all about right now, I'm _really_ gonna-"

"The day after we returned to Soul Society, two arrancar appeared in Rukongai," Toushirou interrupted, though his voice was quiet. Ichigo didn't know what surprised him more: that Toushirou was actually talking or that arrancar had shown up in Soul Society. "Kenpachi, Kusajishi, Matsumoto, and I encountered them. We defeated them, but the arrancar I fought gave me a few … parting gifts.

"The first was a wound on my back, inflicted through its zanpakutou release. The second was a message … from Ichimaru Gin."

Ichigo inhaled sharply. Gin was that creepy one that had met them at the gate, right? He couldn't imagine any message from him being at all pleasant. In fact, just those eyes alone sent shivers down his spine.

"He informed me that if I left for the living world I would have roughly two months, at the most, to find an anti-toxin to counteract the venom injected through the wound, whereas if I stayed in Soul Society, I would have mere days. So … I left."

"Well, no duh," Ichigo shot back. "What else could you have done?"

"I could have stayed." His voice was even softer now, as if it would soon be extinguished.

But Ichigo wouldn't allow that to happen. Not now. "And then _died_?!"

"Who knows?" the frigid voice hissed. "There's no poison. He's already lied about that. Who knows what else he's lied about? The time limit? The symptoms? For all I know, I may have had a better chance in Soul Society. I may not have a chance at all."

"Or you may have a better chance! And you might've died right away if you stayed in Soul Society!" he interjected. Geez, he'd never seen the little guy so utterly devoid of passion as he seemed to be now. Sure, he was always right to the point and he was never obnoxious like Renji or Ikkaku could be, but this was different. This reminded him of himself before Rukia had come back to help with the arrancar.

And the worst part was he couldn't blame him. If what the shrimp had just told him was true … then he was in deep trouble.

"Being optimistic at this point is the same as going into denial. I am currently wrapped around the finger of one of the most insane men in existence. And he's enjoying every minute of it. The worst case scenario: I don't have a chance. The best case scenario: I do have a chance. But knowing Ichimaru, it won't make a difference either way."

"Oi! Shut up! I thought you were supposed to be smart! You've got me on your side now!" He received a particularly derisive snort for that. "And you even managed to get Getaboushi working for you too! Now, he's an idiot, but, as much as it hurts to admit it, he's amazing. He saved my life when I got my butt kicked by Byakuya. He's the reason I made bankai. He got us into Soul Society. He saved my butt again when the arrancar showed up. And then he even got us into Hueco Mundo. If anyone can help you with this mess, it's him."

Silence. Angry silence. Damn, he wished Orihime was here or something! He knew he wasn't all that great at this sort of thing, but he also knew he had to do something, say _something_. He was starting to feel guilty, and it wasn't even his fault! He sighed, slowing his pace until Toushirou was beside him rather than behind. "What have you got to lose?"

Toushirou snorted again, this time in bitter amusement. "Nothing anymore. I gave it all up the moment I left Seireitei. I doubt anyone is happy with Abarai and Kuchiki, but for a _division head_ to leave against orders…"

"Hold up!" Ichigo waved his arms across each other in the air. "Is _that_ why you won't correct me when I call you Toushirou?!"

The return silence told him he was right. "Who cares about what those guys say?! They were wrong about us! They were wrong about Aizen! You shouldn't have to hang off of their every word like that! So they say you're not a part of their little gang anymore? So what! You're still just as strong as you were before. Now, if you told me you secretly like being called Toushirou, then I'll go along with it. But if it's because of some stupid reason like you don't think you're worthy or something, then forget it."

"What does it matter to you?" he seethed.

"It just doesn't feel right, with you calling me Kurosaki and me calling you Toushirou. And I'm not gonna call you Hitsugaya, so that only leaves one other option." Toushirou didn't seem to like where this was going, but Ichigo was going to take it there anyway.

"You call me by my first name."

* * *

Hitsugaya froze. Oh no. She hadn't. She couldn't have. But the look on Kurosaki's face said it all. She had. Tatsuki had told him how she got Hitsugaya to call her by her first name.

The red headed delinquent's wicked smirk was far too much like a certain fan-waving salesman's for Hitsugaya's comfort. The moment he parted his lips, the shinigami knew what was coming.

"Shirou-chan."

Hitsugaya promptly punched him in the stomach.

"That's Hitsugaya-taichou to you, Kurosaki!"

He plowed forward, disregarding the keeled over though broadly grinning teenager. Kurosaki was one person he would _never_ address by his first name.

Because although nothing had changed, although nothing had been solved…

It still felt great to be able to hit something and yell.

* * *

It didn't take long to return to Urahara Shoten, but it was already late. Neither of the boys was looking forward to the reception they'd receive. But Hitsugaya had most definitely _not_ been expecting this.

"No…" he whispered, pausing mid-step as soon as he felt it. "It's impossible."

Kurosaki looked at him awkwardly for a moment, but it didn't take long for him to realize what the smaller shinigami was talking about. Almost as soon as the words came out of Hitsugaya's mouth, a lone woman came charging out of the store. Kurosaki smirked, but Hitsugaya was no longer paying attention. Even as the others filed out of the store front, his eyes were locked on one person.

"M-Matsumoto!?"

The overwhelming bear hug that followed was almost welcome. Almost. "Taichou! You're okay! Oh! But your head's injured! Does it hurt?!"

"Now it does," he managed from between her breasts.

"Then we had better get you somewhere more comfortable, ne, Taichou?" she bellowed gleefully, grabbing his wrist and dragging him along behind her as she very nearly skipped back inside. But Hitsugaya had to admit that seeing Rukia knee Kurosaki in the exact same spot he had punched him earlier made it at almost entirely worth it.

When they were alone inside however, her demeanor changed completely. The happy-go-lucky boisterousness was gone, replaced with solemn indignation. She refused to face him, leaving only the golden tresses flowing down her back for him to see.

"Taichou," she began, cold, "you left without me."

"Yeah. I did."

"Don't you _ever_ do that again."

"Yeah," Hitsugaya replied, the volume of his voice trailing off into nothingness. "I won't."

A sigh, and Matsumoto turned around to meet his teal eyes with her own pale gray. "Now, I'm under orders to report you on sight, so you had better sit down right there and give me a good reason not to, right now!"

And so, he did.

* * *

Chapter Ten End

* * *


	12. Signal Flare

The number of reviews has now reached three digits! Yahoo! -windy's happy dance-

This chapter was perhaps a little too much fun to write. Tensions are high, and all of the characters are being affected by it in their own special ways. I don't know why exactly it's so fun to write about my favorite characters getting more and more stressed out, but it is. So there's lots of that in this chapter.

And another old character returns! Muahahahaha!

Like I said, a little too much fun.

* * *

"_God has given you one face, and you make yourself another."_

_William Shakespeare_

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

Signal Flare

* * *

Urahara Kisuke leaned back from his desk, admiring his latest masterpiece. Well, technically it was only a prototype as of now, but once he tested it and smoothed out any rough edges in the design, it would be perfect. He expected no less from himself. And this particular design was going to be very fun to test. After all, nearly all of his lovely test subjects had returned to him within the last week. Maybe Renji would be the best to test this particular one out on….

His sadistic musing was cut short by a curt knock on the warehouse door, which was then opened without consideration as to whether he was indecent or otherwise. It was the door leading to the inside the house, and seeing as Renji and Hitsugaya-kun were at school and Yoruichi had taken Nell to the park, that left only one person.

"Rangiku-chan," he grinned without looking up from his latest invention. "Or perhaps you're the new Freeloader-san, ne?"

"So you enrolled Taichou and Renji in school again?" he heard her casually ask as she leaned against a nearby counter.

"Yup. This place was just getting way too crowded. And it was getting hard trying to work with little Hitsugaya-kun staring over my shoulder all the time. It was the perfect way to get them out of the house," he exalted gleefully.

"You want someone keeping an eye on him at all times, even when you can't be bothered to," came her matter-of-fact reply, her seriousness a large contrast to Urahara's gaiety. She was bating him, he knew, beating around the bush as she crept closer and closer to what she had really come here to say. Well, it would be rude of him not to play along at least a little bit.

"I take it you talked with Hitsugaya-kun then. What all did he tell you?"

As she summarized the recent events that had taken place, he had to marvel at the strange complexities of the former Tenth Division taichou. He had the courage to stand up against the vaizard, the arrancar, and even Aizen, but he couldn't bring himself to give his own fukutaichou the whole story. It seemed he had skipped out on one rather important detail.

Not once did Matsumoto Rangiku mention Ichimaru Gin.

Once she finished, she stared expectantly at him a moment before plopping down onto a cushioned chair. "You knew, didn't you?" she asked after a time. He raised an eyebrow in reply, leaning a noticeable distance forward as he did so. "That's why you sent him off. You knew that they'd be able to find him much easier if he was out in the open. It's not like he can hide himself with his reiatsu out of his control. You knew about the vaizard from the very beginning."

"Well, of course I did, silly," he beamed. "Even Rukia and Orihime knew about them."

"You knew it wasn't poison."

The salesman's grin grew shadier, though it did not waver in the slightest. "And now _he_ knows," he said simply.

"You're using my taichou."

"He came to me, Rangiku-chan," Urahara tsked, wagging his finger at her. "And we struck up a deal. I've been keeping my end of the bargain, and so has he. That's all there is to it."

"I don't care. He's my taichou, and I don't like it," she huffed. "He doesn't have a choice but to accept your help. I, on the other hand, do."

"No."

"What?" the buxom fukutaichou asked, perplexed.

"You came down here to say you want to re-enroll in school as well. And I'm saying that that would be a very stupid idea."

Matsumoto frowned, folding her arms tightly below her breasts. "And why is that?"

"What is your mission?"

Her frown turned into a pout as she realized where he was headed. "I was sent under orders to warn the shinigami substitute and his friends about Taichou's supposed betrayal. Yamamoto-soutaichou decided that those in the living world should be made aware of it as well, just in case."

"Let me rephrase that. What is your _real_ mission? What's the reason they chose _you_?" Urahara disregarded her reply.

Matsumoto sighed. She must have been debating whether to tell him or not. But he knew she would inevitably choose the former, everyone did, so he remained patient. "As Hitsugaya-taichou's second, it was decided that I would be the most likely to know where he would be hiding and would therefore be the most likely, even out of the nine remaining taichou, to find him without his noticing me. Unofficially, I'm supposed to search for him. When I sense his reiatsu, I'm to report to Yamamoto-soutaichou immediately. I'm … not to make contact."

"All the rules you've already broken aside, there is one thing that they truly expect you to do. As his fukutaichou, they expect you to be searching for him, yes?" Matsumoto's pout became more defined. "Now, with this lovely device hanging from your waste," he slyly held up the pouting shinigami's denreishinki and her eyes widened as she tried to snatch it back, "your every move can be tracked by the Twelfth Division. Believe me, I know.

"So staying in one spot like … say, a _school_, or _here_ for that matter … would make your stuffy, uptight bosses rather suspicious, no?"

"Then what should I do? Wander around aimlessly until Taichou dies?!" she shot back as soon as she retrieved the cell phone. "I went through hell to prove I am loyal to him over all else, and I'm not about to ruin that! If a couple of self-appreciating taichou don't like it, they can just go eat dirt."

"As well as any chance you might have of using them to your advantage," Urahara replied. "I'm sure you'd like some help from Jyuushirou and Shunsui too, ne? If you lose your authority, you lose your connection to them as well. And seeing as there's no doubt that their influence is the only reason you're here at all, I'd say that's a very bad idea."

"So I should just waste what little time I have here away, pretending to look for Taichou instead of helping him?"

"Not exactly," the salesman smirked, leaning back once more. "You want to help Hitsugaya-kun, right? Well, I've got a few things I need to get to some choice contacts who may be able to do just that. But I'm far too busy to take them there myself."

Matsumoto slumped back into her chair with a sigh. "Fine, but I won't like it."

"Yay! I've got myself a sexy, new delivery girl!" The instinctive bashing of her fist over the top of his head quickly left him with a sheepish grin. "And by that I mean, of course, an intelligent and capable business partner."

Dusting off his flattened hat, he stood up and began walking out of the room. "It's the little box labeled 'With Love,'" he told her in all seriousness, pointing to the far corner of the warehouse with his cane. "Oh, and can you give that little toy on the desk to Abarai-kun for me?" he added before tossing her a camera. "If it blows up in his face, be sure to take a picture!"

Matsumoto watched as he disappeared through the door before turning back to look down at the device. It looked a little like … a yoyo. A red yoyo with a black skull and cross bones on each side. With a shrug, she picked it up and stuffed it between her breasts. Then she grabbed the package.

At least it was something.

* * *

"You will not tell anyone anything, understand? Not Abarai, not Kuchiki, not anyone. Not even Matsumoto."

"Yeah. Yeah. And for the millionth time, yeah. I promise," Kurosaki grinned. "I swear I won't say anything, on penalty of becoming giant ice dragon feed."

"And that's exactly what will happen," hissed Hitsugaya. His second day of school had been just as bad as his first, made all the worse because they really weren't his first or second days, and he was in no mood to take Kurosaki's jokes.

He entered the shop to see Matsumoto assaulting a none-too-pleased Abarai, Rukia giggling from a short way away. Abarai didn't look too happy either. Their sensei had called them both in after school and asked that they meet with her sometime next week … _along with their current guardians_. And watching Matsumoto pull something out from between her breasts and stuff it into the redheaded fukutaichou's hands before turning to him with a titanic smile upon her face only served to deepen his doubt in how that particular meeting was going to work out.

"Taichou!" she shouted as she caught him up in yet another back-breaking hug. Kurosaki snickered as he trotted over to Abarai and Rukia, who were now eyeing whatever it was that Matsumoto had given him. "Did you have a good day?"

"Hardly."

"Do you want something to eat? Drink?"

Hitsugaya looked up at her, a single eyebrow raised in suspicion. Matsumoto was never this nice, not until she'd had a good five to ten minutes to tease him first. After a moment, he sighed. "What do you want, Matsumoto?"

His fukutaichou leaned down so that her eye level matched his own, and her expression was surprisingly serious. Then she stood straight once again, grabbed his wrist, and hauled him out of the room, away from the others. As soon as they were alone, she held her hands up to him as if she were praying. "I want you to start teaching me bankai again. Please, Taichou. Pretty please?"

"You were awfully lousy at it last time," the young boy huffed in response to her pleading.

"That wasn't my fault!" she whined. "Haineko wouldn't listen to a word I said! Whenever I started talking, she sang the next verse of _99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall_ at the top of her lungs! She got all the way down to fourteen bottles before I finally gave up!"

Hitsugaya quirked a brow. Matsumoto did realize that a zanpakutou's personality reflected its wielder's, right? "Besides, it generally takes ten years to master bankai," he added, deciding it would be best not to bring it up.

"We don't have years," Matsumoto replied, a rare frown embedded in her full, red lips as she looked down on him. "We have weeks. Besides, _you_ learned bankai in less than ten years. So I'll just have to master it faster, won't I?"

Hitsugaya could see she was serious. He could also see her determination, her pride, and her unshakable loyalty. Even after everything that had happened, after everything he'd done, she had still done everything in her power to follow him every step of the way. Just as she'd always done. _What was she anyway? His shadow?_ He smirked. "Good. That's exactly what I wanted to hear," he announced, much to her apparent surprise. "I've done more than just read since I arrived in this dump. Ever wonder how Kurosaki mastered his bankai so quickly?"

"Then the rumors are true," she whispered in awe. "Urahara really found a way to master bankai in just three days."

"But it's not easy, and it's not safe," he continued. "It won't be like last time, trying to hold some half-cocked conversation with a sword. It won't be just another game."

"If Kurosaki can manage, I shouldn't have anything to worry about, ne, Taichou?" she grinned.

His smirk slowly melted into an even rarer smile. "Of course," he agreed. "I'll see what I can do. I'll be sure to sway that idiotic salesman if Kuchiki is backing me up." Matsumoto laughed as he headed back to the store, looking to be in much better spirits than he'd been in before. That was definitely a good sign.

"So?" came a voice from behind her. She jumped in surprise, whirling around to face none other than the aforementioned idiotic salesman. "Did you take the picture like I asked?"

"You … were serious?" she asked, both surprised and yet not surprised at the same time. It was just about then that Hitsugaya returned, his far-away expression one of a person who had just seen something he really shouldn't have and yet couldn't figure out exactly why he felt that way.

"Of course I was serious!" Urahara huffed in that disturbingly playful way of his. "I prefer to have visual documentation when my inventions actually work like they're supposed to!"

"You mean to say that you actually _intended_ to coat your storefront in a layer of expired mayonnaise?"

Matsumoto quickly understood the reason for her taichou's awkward expression. The very thought of Kurosaki, Renji, and Rukia buried in old condiments made her giddy. Both Urahara's and her eyes lit up, and they ran past Hitsugaya, bursting through the door so that they could laugh in their unfortunate friends' faces.

_His shadow, indeed._

Hitsugaya sighed as he slowly and reluctantly followed. But he supposed there was no harm in enjoying the spectacle just a little bit. As long as he wasn't the one who would have to clean up.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou knew where he was, even though his eyes were shut tight. The emptiness surrounding him, the atmosphere so devoid of air, and Hyourinmaru's eerie silence made it obvious enough. But he refused to open his eyes. He would not be toyed with like one of Kurotsuchi's play things. He was a (former) taichou of the Gotei 13, dammit! He was not going to play this game.

He was not going to crack.

When the all-too-familiar spiritual pressure tightened his muscles and restricted his lungs however, he finally lifted his eye lids. Ichimaru Gin stood in front of him, looking down with mild curiosity. Hitsugaya didn't look him in the face, instead focusing his sight on his stark white robes. "Ya look kinda tired, Hitsugaya-kun. Havin' trouble sleepin' lately?"

Hitsugaya did not reply, and the fox-faced man before him seemed to enjoy the fact. "Aw, are ya mad at me?"

Finally, the smaller of the two managed to croak, "You can … drag me here at will?"

"How didja think I did it last time, ne?" Ichimaru sneered playfully. "It's amazin', the things yer capable o' when ya've watched a man like Aizen long 'nough."

"I see," his guest deadpanned.

"Just thought I'd tell ya that yer a pretty borin' person ta watch. Even when somethin' interestin' does happen, ya always halfta pretend yer still in charge. Ya always hafta pretend yer okay. It's really no fun at all."

Hitsugaya's frown deepened. "Then why not find someone else to antagonize in your free time?"

"But I dun want someone else, little taichou," Ichimaru Gin drawled as he ran a finger up Hitsugaya's throat and under his chin, lifting his head so that their eyes finally met. He felt his teeth grind together as those masking slits parted to reveal fierce, neon orbs. "I wanna play with you an' only you. I wanna finish what we started back in Soul Society."

"If it's a fight you want, I'd gladly accept," he snarled, pushing Ichimaru's hand away.

"Not yet," the host smirked, retracting his arm back into its sleeve. "Not yet. Not 'til the end o' the game."

"You still call it a game, even after you lie about the rules."

"Ah. So ya _are_ mad then. But, ya know, I was more surprised that ya listened ta me at all," Ichimaru replied.

Hitsugaya's frown escalated to a grimace. "I had no choice," he growled. He did not like this. At all. He did not want to think about this.

"But ya did have a choice, little taichou. Ya _chose_ ta believe me. And tha's all part o' the game."

Again, Hitsugaya did not reply.

"Ara. Yer still in such a bad mood, Hitsugaya-kun? Even after Ran-chan came all the way down ta find ya?"

The younger of the two defectors immediately tensed. "Ichimaru…"

"Aw well, I guess there's nothin' I can do 'bout that, ne? Ya are what ya are, after all."

"Stay away from her. She is not a part of this. None of them are."

"The real question, little taichou, is how long ya can keep it that way. And whether it was ever truly that way at all."

Matsumoto had already suffered through enough where Ichimaru was concerned. She'd mourned, she'd drowned herself in sake, and she'd finally pulled herself back together. Hitsugaya was not about to let that all go to waste. It was an old wound that he was determined to let heal, and he knew very well that if Ichimaru came back into the picture, she'd fall right back into stage one.

He knew Matsumoto was strong. He knew she would be able to handle it. But he couldn't do it. This was _his_ fight, _his_ fault, and _his_ problem. Dragging Matsumoto into it, forcing that pain on her, he couldn't do it. He had already made his mistake with Hinamori. He had pulled her into the dark spiral the moment he'd tried to warn her … just as Aizen had wanted him to. Never again.

"If you so much as…"

"Hn? Is that really smart? Ya tried all this before, an' look how that ended up," Ichimaru countered, raising a single, silver brow. When Hitsugaya said nothing, his expression seemed to soften though the treacherous smirk never wavered. "But ya don' hafta worry. _I_ won' touch yer pretty fukutaichou."

Hitsugaya stared at the former Third Division taichou without really seeing him, feeling particularly disturbed. Ichimaru had placed a daunting emphasis on the word "I" that he wasn't quite ready to decipher.

"Well, if yer just gonna stand there all dumb like that, I might as well take off, ne?" finally shook him from his inattention as the lanky shinigami began to turn away, white robes rippling in a nonexistent breeze.

Hitsugaya instinctively felt himself jerk after him, reaching out his hand to snag the man's trailing sleeve. He wasn't going to let it end like this! He wasn't going to let him have his way! "Ichimaru!"

When he turned to face Hitsugaya once more, the tension in his overwhelming reiatsu intensified to wholly new heights. Sweat broke free of his pores unwillingly as he stared back into angry blue eyes, any sign of the chronic smirk wiped from existence.

"It ain' smart ta go lookin' for fights," he hissed. "They'll come ta ya on their own soon 'nough."

* * *

Eyes bursting open, Hitsugaya's pupils darted left and right in an attempt to regain his bearings. A blurry hallway sharpened into view. _Urahara's. He was back at Urahara's._ Hastily, he tried to get up.

The young boy realized too late however, that he was already standing up, and he only succeeded in losing his balance and falling backward into a shelf. His head was pounding where he'd hit it the day before, but he ignored it as well as he could. That was not the issue right now. The issue was how loud his little crash had been. And it had been very loud.

He could hear footsteps over the sound of the still-vibrating shelf, and soon Matsumoto peeked her head out the door to look down at him. Abarai was right behind her, still covered head to toe in mayonnaise. Some detached, unaffected part of his mind told him that this was good. If Abarai and the others hadn't had time to clean up yet, then he hadn't been zoned out for too long. And it didn't look like anyone had noticed.

But the rest of his brain, not to mention his entire body, was on fire. He could only stare up at the two other shinigami, wide-eyed and nearly hyperventilating in the heat of it all. Only when he felt the cooling tendrils tighten around his muscles and Hyourinmaru's icy breath fill his over-active lungs did he begin to calm down.

By then, Kurosaki and Kuchiki had joined Matsumoto and Abarai at the door. Urahara didn't show up, though Hitsugaya wasn't surprised. That man probably knew what had happened already. They'd be having a nice, long talk about it this weekend; that was for sure.

Well aware of how uncharacteristic he must seem at the moment, he slowly, carefully pulled himself up. He turned to face them at an equally measured pace, folding his arms across his chest and doing his best to assume his usual indifferent expression. "What? Haven't you ever seen someone trip before?"

"But Taichou…" his fukutaichou trailed, taking a step forward.

"But what, Matsumoto?" he growled, cutting her off. "I'm fine. But I'm beginning to wonder whether all of _you_ are, gawking at me like that when you're the ones who look like a batch of onigiri molded by a blind three year old."

Matsumoto seemed to take the hint as she didn't protest when he turned around and began walking in the opposite direction, toward the farthest restroom. But he could see in her frown that she too would be causing him trouble for this later.

When he made it without mishap, he stepped inside, locked the door behind him, and promptly puked into the toilet.

* * *

"Is Hitsugaya-taichou alright?" Rukia asked, wiping some of the bad smelling condiment from the tip of her nose.

"You call _that_ alright?" Renji huffed. "There's definitely something wrong."

"Well, of course there's something wrong!" Matsumoto spat back. "Why else would he have left Soul Society in the first place?!"

"I mean there's something wrong with _him_."

"He's just ... a little moody is all."

"Matsumoto-san…" Rukia spoke up again, her voice laced with concern. "Did he tell you anything last night?"

Matsumoto was quiet for a second or two before she sighed. "No. Nothing I couldn't already figure out on my own."

Kurosaki Ichigo watched as the others talked, not in the best of moods after having Renji's freaky yoyo-thing explode in his face. But he didn't yell or throw any insults. He only scowled. "Leave him be," he finally muttered as he stocked off to Urahara's other restroom. "If Toushirou needed our help, he'd ask for it, right?"

He kicked at the ground as he walked, frowning.

_Idiot._

* * *

Gulping deep breaths of stale air, Hitsugaya wrinkled his nose at the smell and flushed the toilet. He ignored the wretched taste in his mouth and leaned in against the wall, the cool tile like an ice pack for his heated forehead. He could feel Hyourinmaru coiling about his chest, but again, the dragon was silent.

"_Even when somethin' interestin' does happen, ya always halfta pretend yer still in charge. Ya always hafta pretend yer okay."_

"I _am_ okay. I'm fine."

"_But ya did have a choice, little taichou. Ya _chose_ ta believe me. And tha's all part o' the game."_

"Leaving was the option that offered the greatest probability of survival. I had no choice."

"_It ain' smart ta go lookin' for fights. They'll come ta ya on their own soon 'nough."_

Hitsugaya turned around, letting his back slide down the bathroom wall.

"Dammit," he laughed wryly, the helpless sarcasm all-too-apparent in his choked-up voice.

"I've got a headache."


	13. Illegal is Always Faster

Well, that took forever, didn't it? I'm sorry. But I'm back now. So everything's okay, right? Right?

I'm not sure why, but I absolutely love the thought of Urahara saying "pickle."

* * *

"_Idealism is what precedes experience; cynicism is what follows.__"_

_David T. Wolf_

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

Illegal is Always Faster

* * *

"Ne, Hitsugaya-kun, would you like to join us?"

"No, thank you," the young shinigami declined just a little too quickly.

Inoue didn't seem to mind though, and with a smiling "Okay, then," she ran back to Tatsuki to resume their exercises. Tatsuki was teaching her more advanced karate, and she, in turn, was teaching Tatsuki about reiatsu and how to control it. She wasn't doing a very good job, merely respouting what he was sure were Urahara's and Shihouin's words, but seeing as all of Kurosaki's friends each had very different abilities, it was probably impossible for her or anyone else to do any better. What deterred him from joining them was not what they were doing however, but the little, black box sitting next to them and pumping out loud, obnoxious music into the entirety of the underground training area. Inoue's CD player; Tatsuki's CD.

Now, it wasn't as bad as it could have been. The first couple of days after Hitsugaya had arrived here, Urahara had erupted into loud, obnoxious bouts of "It's a Small World" whenever they crossed paths. He tried to tell himself that Urahara must have simply liked that sort of music, but when the erratic salesman began to sing old, love songs whenever he saw Kurosaki and Abarai together, his true motives became rather obvious. Yes, it could have been much worse. But he didn't like it the way it was either, so he kept his seat. Not that he had much choice…

He looked down at the curled up bundle in his lap with a sigh before he leaned back and surveyed the rest of the area. It being the weekend, everyone had found one excuse or another to come to Urahara's. And so they were all underground, branching off to spend their time in the way each thought best.

Abarai and Rukia were arguing with each other about their respective kidou techniques. Sado had wandered off somewhere to train alone. The Quincy was sewing something for Inoue. Kurosaki's illegal modsoul was harassing his fukutaichou as she tried to join Abarai's and Rukia's argument. Asano and Kojima were trying to convince Kurosaki to stop reading his book and start doing something interesting with them. And Shihouin had abandoned Nell to him once more, she and Urahara having disappeared earlier that morning.

The bundle in his lap shifted as she sat up and rubbed large gray eyes. "Toushirou…" Nell whined, turning those childish orbs on him. He frowned but didn't bother correcting her. "Where's Ichigo?"

"Over there," he sighed, indicating the direction in which the trio of high school students lay, "being his usual, cheerful self."

Nell squinted at them, cocking her head. "But he doesn't look very happy at all," she stated, unsatisfied with his answer. "I'm gonna go see." He grunted as she jumped up and sprinted toward them, but he followed her none-the-less. He was just glad that he was now out of Matsumoto's sights. If that woman had seen him chasing after a toddler like this, he'd never hear the end of it.

Asano leapt backward in surprise when the tiny arrancar tackled Kurosaki's backside and clamped her arms around his neck, but Kurosaki himself didn't even flinch. Kojima's attention though, was turned not on Nell but Hitsugaya, watching as the former taichou approached.

"Hitsugaya-san, stuck with babysitting duty again?" he asked lightly.

"It's not as if I can refuse. Shihouin would just start stripping until I changed my mind anyway," he huffed his reply.

Kojima laughed. "I would've liked to see that." When Hitsugaya began inching away, he only laughed harder. "Don't worry yourself about it too much. Girls love the sensitive types."

Hitsugaya was about to assure Kojima that he wasn't worried about that at all, but he was interrupted by a wailing Nell. "Ichigooo! Why're you soooo quiet?! You're neeever this quiet! Is something wrong? Didja get dumped?!"

Asano went wild, jerking his finger to point accusingly at his friend. "That's exactly what I said! See! Even a baby can tell how much of a bummer you're being!" he cried, before leaning in close to Kurosaki's ear. "So … was it Rukia … or Inoue?"

Kurosaki didn't look up from his book as he punched his obnoxious friend in the stomach. "That's not it."

"Defensive, huh?" Asano half-growled, half-whined. "Well, then who needs you anyway?! Not me! I bet even Nell-chan would rather come with me, right?! C'mon! Let's leave him to his stupid book, seeing as he loves it more than us!"

He held out his hand to the tiny arrancar, and she turned to him with a huge grin before spitting right in his face. He blinked, looking blankly down as she let go of Kurosaki, grabbed his outstretched hand, and began pulling him along. "Yeah, let's go play!"

For the first time since Hitsugaya had met him, Asano was speechless.

Kojima nudged Hitsugaya as he motioned that he would follow. Before he left however, he snuck in one last word of advice. "You know, I meant it when I said you shouldn't worry too much. Things have a weird way of turning out for the better around here."

"If you believe that, than you're blind," the shinigami replied.

"Maybe I am," he shrugged.

Hitsugaya watched him run after Asano and Nell, frowning. But he soon gave up on whatever he had been trying to extract from Kojima's blunt statement, sighed, and turned to Kurosaki. The red headed delinquent hadn't moved an inch, still staring at the same spot on the same page. His frown straightened to a determined slit as he approached the moping high school student and sat down next to him on the grass.

_It was no use trying to talk reason with these people._

"What's happening?"

"Huh?" Kurosaki turned his head just enough to see Hitsugaya plop down beside him.

"In the book."

"Oh… Nothing, really."

"What's the title?"

"Huh?"

"Of the book."

Kurosaki frowned at him in a way that clearly said Hitsugaya was the last person he had expected to annoy him in this way, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he grabbed the book right out the other boy's hands. By the time Kurosaki realized what had happened, Hitsugaya had already closed it and was staring at the cover. The indignant red head hastily stole it back, and the small shinigami let him. "_Black Roses: Thorns of the Heart_," he smirked. "I had no idea you enjoyed those sorts of stories, Kurosaki."

"It must be Rukia's," Kurosaki huffed. "Sticking her stuff all over my room again…"

"And you didn't even notice?" Hitsugaya grunted his disapproving reply. "Get over yourself, and start talking already."

Kurosaki stared at him as if he had gone mad. "What the heck are you talking about?"

"My personal problems can't be that much of a burden for you. Therefore, there must be something else you're focusing your pathetic, teenage angst upon."

"This coming from the guy who was practically suicidal a few days ago?" Kurosaki grumbled.

"I have approximately a thirty per cent chance of surviving the next few weeks. What's your excuse?" Hitsugaya shot back coldly.

Kurosaki was quiet a moment, staring down at the cover of Rukia's horror romance. Finally, he sighed and let himself collapse backward onto the ground. "I ran off for Hueco Mundo and nearly got all of my closest friends killed," he began softly, clenching his fist. "I need to get stronger, but … after my stupid little stunt the vaizard won't go any farther until I agree to join them."

"I fail to see the problem," the white crowned ex-taichou replied, raising a single brow at Kurosaki's defeatist behavior.

"I can't join them! I refuse to join them!" he snarled, eyes sharpening in their fury as he slammed his fists against the ground. "The only one who decides why I fight is me! I need to get stronger, but I'm not selling my soul for it! There has to be another option, another way for it all to work out! I just have to think of it…."

"Kurosaki."

* * *

Toushirou's voice was frigid enough to send a tingle down Ichigo's spine, but he refused to move. He only glared at the sky, waiting for the shrimp to continue. He was rather surprised however, when he heard a light thump next to him and looked to see that Toushirou had lain down as well.

"It's only a matter of time before Aizen begins his war. Are you strong enough to defeat him?"

"…No," Ichigo replied, just barely audible.

"Every once in a while, a situation calls for you to search every possible option and every possible scenario in order to discover an advantage," Toushirou continued, tone still bleak. "But usually, especially now, there is no time for such things. Every minute you waste staring at that novel is another minute of possible improvement you've missed. Don't try to dodge your responsibilities. You have two choices: Get stronger and fight, or don't and die. It's your choice. And you have to make it."

Ichigo bolted upright again, fire in his eyes. "What's the point of fighting if I'm not doing it for the people I care about?!"

"You _would_ be doing it for the people you care about. If we don't defeat Aizen, _they will all die_."

"But…!" Ichigo wasn't going to give in. He couldn't. If he were to join the vaizard, he wouldn't be able to… Rukia, Renji… Toushirou, Zaraki, Byakuya, Rangiku… He couldn't. "There has to be another way!"

"I couldn't even lay a finger on him." Ichigo almost didn't hear the muffled words. But he did hear them, and he almost wished he hadn't. He could only watch as the Tenth Division taichou slowly pulled himself back up into a sitting position so that they could meet eye to eye.

"Don't be so arrogant as to think you have the privilege to search for a third option!"

Ichigo didn't know how to react at first. The words struck a deep chord. He knew what Toushirou was talking about; and he very much doubted that he brought it up often. The little shrimp was really serious.

_But then … so was he._

The thought that some shinigami who had no idea how he felt, no idea what he had gone through, would spout some self-righteous lecture to him finally broke open the dam. In his rage, he bolted forward and grabbed Toushirou by the collar of his shirt. "_You're_ calling _me_ arrogant?! Stop it with the bullshit! I'll do whatever the hell I want to!" he shouted into the small taichou's expressionless face. "If you're saying I can't, then I say I can! I'll friggin' train myself harder than the vaizard ever could! And I'll be ten times stronger than you! I'll beat Aizen's ass right in front of you! What do you say to that?!"

Toushirou quirked a brow before forcing himself out of Ichigo's grip. Then he said the one thing that Ichigo had not expected.

"It's about time, moron."

"Wait. What?"

Toushirou sighed. "You really are dense."

"You … You did that on _purpose_?!" Ichigo finally managed, surprise and confusion overtaking every ounce of anger he had felt only seconds ago. "Why the hell would you do that?!"

He frowned, just enough for Ichigo to catch it before he turned around and began walking off. "I don't appreciate being in debt."

Debt? Ichigo watched as he retreated, pursing his lips into a pout. Did he mean that time … after they talked to the vaizard…? Ichigo almost laughed.

_He really was an idiot._

"Yo, Toushirou!"

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou!"

"I meant every word," Ichigo smirked.

Toushirou was quiet for a moment. Finally, a wry grin found its way to his lips. "Just try it."

* * *

"So touching!"

Hitsugaya nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around to meet the formerly missing Urahara. A single vein throbbed mercilessly in his forehead. "Not really," he grunted. "I was just showing him how utterly stupid he really is."

"Well then, if you're not busy, take this," Urahara grinned as he handed the young shinigami a piece of paper.

Hitsugaya looked it over with an air of exasperation. "Urahara… This is a grocery list."

"What else would it be?" he asked, playful sarcasm as abundant as ever. "It's not like I'm busting my butt every day trying to find out how to cure a stubborn, chibi-taichou, ne?"

"Are you _trying_ to goad me into killing you?"

"You can't, even if you want to," Urahara smirked. "Oh, and could you take these two along with you? I'm in a bit of a pickle at the moment, and I can't be bothered babysitting." The be-hatted salesman produced two children, which Hitsugaya recognized as being Ururu and Jinta, and shoved them toward him.

"No."

"What?" For a moment, Urahara looked genuinely surprised.

"The deal was that I answer your questions and you help me, not vice-versa," Hitsugaya huffed. "I'm not doing your shopping for you when you have a perfectly good pair of legs of your own."

"Oh? That's too bad," he sighed dramatically before holding up a wad of cash. "And here I was planning on letting you keep any money that was left over. And if you were to catch a few sales, I'm sure there would have been enough left for a completely normal, beltless, chainless, and zipperless pair of blue jeans." Hitsugaya snatched the money out of the older man's hand before he could even smirk. "That's what I thought."

"Kiiiisukeeeeee!!" echoed a very loud, very angry voice. The voice of one Shihouin Yoruichi.

"Gotta run!" the former Twelfth Division taichou grinned sheepishly as he dashed off once more.

Hitsugaya sighed as he looked down at the expectant faces of Urahara's young protégés. "All right. Let's get this over with."

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou couldn't believe what he had just done. A week with Urahara must have completely numbed his fashion sense and then sent it through a shredder. Here he was, returning with two grocery bags in each hand and a pair of gray pants with black flames running up the sides. Black flames. He had passed up _blue jeans_ for _black flames_!

"I think all of this free time is starting to mess with my common sense," he grumbled under his breath.

"Yo, Toushirou."

"Hitsugaya," the weary shinigami prompted to Jinta when Urahara's kids caught up to him once more. Ururu remained quiet, as she always seemed to be whenever Jinta wasn't yanking on her hair.

"Whatever," the boy muttered with a childish scowl. "I was just gonna ask what was up with you and Kisuke-jii."

"Nothing's 'up,'" Hitsugaya mirrored the scowl. "He's an over-grown toddler with far too much time on his hands than is healthy for anyone and everyone around him. If I had a choice in the matter, I'd be long gone by now."

"But you're the same as him, aren't you?"

The bewildered ex-taichou stared down at the small girl, unable to react for some time. Not only had Ururu spoken, but she had gone so far as to equate him to that obnoxious, half-cocked insult to honest salesmen. Hitsugaya Toushirou had been compared to many things – including but not limited to Kuchiki-taichou, a blizzard, shrimp, and a slave driver – but never in his comparatively short life had he ever been compared to Urahara Kisuke.

"And how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?"

"Well, you're both really strong shinigami, right?" Jinta butted in. "You're both supposed to be really smart. And you both got kicked out of Soul Society."

Hitsugaya sighed in defeat. "Perhaps. However there is one flaw in your reasoning. Urahara may have left Soul Society because of his exile, but I was exiled because I left Soul Society."

"Then why'd you leave?"

The white crowned shinigami hardly heard the question. His attention had become focused on something else a way away. Was that … music? Was that … _Tatsuki's_ music?

Brows furrowing, he ignored Jinta's protests as he veered off course and followed the sound to an empty alleyway. The two ran after him, situating themselves on his flanks as soon as he had stopped. Directly in front of him, lying abandoned on the ground, was Inoue's CD player. Slowly, cautiously, he crouched down to get a closer look. It really was Inoue's….

"What's so great about some stupid CD player?" Jinta grumbled.

Then, Hitsugaya felt it.

Teal eyes widening in realization, he grabbed the two children by the cuffs of their shirts and threw them forward just as a giant claw burst out of the player and pinned him against the brick wall behind.

The body that followed the claw was no less menacing or ugly. It looked rather like a giant, hairless sloth, its limbs like clubs all their own and it mask a collection of jagged edges and spikes. Its stubby, paw-like fingers pressed his body deeper into the wall, its claws penetrating the brick as if it were nothing more than putty. Had Hitsugaya not been able to see the hollow before him, he would have sworn his abdomen was being bulldozed. Blood trickled from his nose.

The groceries were strewn all along the length of the alleyway, at least two meters below his dangling legs. Among them, the gikongan dispenser that he had just managed to pull halfway out of his pocket before the disgusting behemoth had pinned him. If he had had the breath, he would have cursed. _Stupid gigai._

A gurgling sound reached his ears, and it took him a few seconds to realize the hollow was chuckling. "You're scrawny, but you smell pretty tasty for just some shinigami." Its grating voice didn't sound much different from its laugh.

Doing his best to keep his tone level despite its overwhelming want to shatter in his throat, he met the hollow eye to eye and choked out, "Not 'just some shinigami.' Hitsugaya Toushirou."

The revolting creature sneered. "I know." And suddenly, it had Hitsugaya's undivided attention. "I am Torquatusa. It's nice to finally talk to you in person, _Toushirou_."

Hitsugaya was so stunned, he didn't even respond to the mocking way the hollow had said his name. The only thing that he could manage was a breathy, "What…?"

"I wasn't supposed to come out, but this was just one opportunity I couldn't resist. A poor, helpless, fallen shinigami, all for the taking. Alone in an alleyway with two defenseless, little brats, trapped in a useless body. Not even your pretty, little sword can protect you now."

The former taichou was silent, looking past the mane-like mask as if in a trance.

"But, even so, I was expecting _some_ struggle. A little verbal abuse at least. I never thought I'd have you in my grasp so easily." The hollow dug its claw deeper once more, and Hitsugaya was shoved out of his reverie, unable to hold back a pained wince. "You could at least try a kick or two, right? Even though it would be pointless in that pathetic body of yours. So … what do you say?"

The young shinigami snorted, smirking through his now thoroughly blood soaked lips. "It looks like I won't have to."

* * *

Jinta screamed bloody murder as he felt himself being tossed down the alleyway. When he flipped just in time to see a huge hollow in between them and Hitsugaya however, he immediately shut up. Skidding to a halt, he could only stare numbly.

A hollow. It was just a hollow. But it had overcome a shinigami taichou.

"Processing…"

The familiar voice shook him from his stupor, and he jerked his head toward Ururu. She was watching Hitsugaya and the hollow with wide, unblinking eyes, her body limp. His jaw dropped. She was going to do _that_ again.

"Target attacker is weak, not classified as an immediate threat, but the current conditions cannot be allowed to progress. Entering … **Genocide Mode**."

Jinta grinned.

_Perfect._

* * *

Tsumugiya Ururu flew forward so fast that Hitsugaya was sure the lack of oxygen was affecting his eye sight. But no. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, she flung her leg forward, splicing through the back of Torquatusa's head and out the mask. Bodily fluids and what he was fairly certain were pieces of brain sprayed onto his face. Only after this did the hollow begin to disintegrate, he noted with contempt.

Hitsugaya managed to regain himself enough to catch the girl mid-fall, but he almost dropped her again upon landing. Wiping the blood from his lips, he attempted to assess the damage. He was okay, but it was obvious that his gigai was done for. Two or three broken ribs and probably a bit of internal bleeding. Then again, he wasn't exactly a doctor, so he couldn't be positive.

Jinta ran over to them and helped the girl back to her feet. They seemed to be fine as well, although the leg she had kicked the hollow with was rather slimy. As was most of Hitsugaya's face and hair.

"You just got your butt saved by a little girl!" he jeered, giving Ururu a congratulatory smack on her back that nearly sent her down into the pavement. When the surrounding atmosphere became particularly heavy and frigid however, he backed off once again. "Okay, okay. Jeez. No sense of humor…" he trailed, trotting off to pick up the scattered produce they had all dropped.

Hitsugaya remained silent and unmoving as the two children shuffled about. Only when Ururu approached him with the fallen gikongan dispenser did he let out a soft, "Thanks."

He stared at the beheaded dispenser for a moment before stuffing it back into his back pocket and lifting himself from his spot leaning against the wall. Lifting a finger to his temple, he rubbed it in a futile attempt to sooth the ache.

That _thing_ had known when he'd be the most vulnerable, had replicated an item it knew he would recognize, and had known exactly how he would react. It had been watching him.

Yet Hitsugaya had never noticed.

And, he realized with equal disbelief, neither had anyone else.

* * *

Chapter Twelve End

* * *

Behind the Name:

**Torquatusa** – The hollow's design was based off of the Maned Three-toed Sloth, classified as Bradypus Torquatus.


	14. Everything in Moderation

This chapter is proof that during the time Matsumoto has spent as Hitsugaya's fukutaichou, she's been doing much more than just annoying him for the fun of it. It has all been in preparation for this moment. The moment when Hitsugaya is unable to give her any paperwork as punishment. –cackles evilly-

* * *

"_No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible."_

_Voltaire_

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

Everything in Moderation

* * *

"What did you say?" The malice in Hitsugaya Toushirou's voice was enough to make the dogs across the street cower in submission.

"I said," Urahara grinned as he examined the expired gigai, "that I already knew about that hollow."

"And I suppose everyone else knew as well. They just didn't say anything because they thought it would be amusing to see me out of commission on account of a no-name hollow."

"Hardly out of commission," the blonde pouted. "Just a bit beat up is all. And I'm confident that I'm the only one who knew of the hollow's presence. I have traps and sensors set up all over this place, and it just so happened that the clumsy thing managed to trigger two or three of them the last couple of days. So you don't have to feel quite so inadequate, ne?"

Doing his best to ignore Urahara and yet listen intently to him at the same time, Hitsugaya soaked in what exactly those words meant. There were at least five taichou-level shinigami in Karakura right now, and none of them had been able to detect the energy of a single hollow. "That means…"

"Yup!" Urahara chimed as he poked a finger into the side of one of Hitsugaya's broken ribs. The small shinigami cursed with a surprisingly big voice before jumping back to escape the man's killer finger.

He wanted to slap himself. That was _not_ how he was supposed to handle pain. That was the exact opposite of the way he was supposed to react. But, damn! That _really_ hurt!

Urahara frowned critically at the response, but quickly perked up again. "The gigai's in bad shape, but I'll have it fixed by tomorrow morning. Nothing to worry about."

Despite that Hitsugaya found this diagnosis rather contradictory to his painful probe's results, he did not reply. Instead, he pulled out the gikongan dispenser that had fallen from his pocket earlier and opened the bottom to produce a single, white orb emblazoned with a familiar flaming skull. Tossing it into his mouth, he was separated from the now empty shell. And as Urahara fiddled with the lifeless gigai, he made sure to analyze himself thoroughly. The results were confusing.

While Hitsugaya had sustained more than his fair share of injuries in his time, he had never really had to bring a gigai into the equation before. Either he had stayed in the gigai as the wounds healed or he hadn't been in a gigai at all. The wounds from the encounter were no where on his person, but he could still feel an awkward phantom pain in his abdomen.

"Don't give me that look. I told you it's nothing to worry about," the cheerful salesman waved away Hitsugaya's concerns. "What you should really be worried about is that hollow. The reason why we couldn't sense it as it was watching us and the reason why it was able to surprise you the way it did are two very different reasons."

"If you have a point, please get to it," the irate boy huffed, still uncomfortable despite Urahara's reassurances.

"Well, whatever it was that enabled it to sneak around has nothing to do with your current situation. Its presence was completely shielded. Either that or everyone everywhere has had their senses dampened, which is highly unlikely."

"In other words, someone's found a way to hide a hollow from both individual shinigami and Seireitei's sensors."

"No need to name names, eh?" the be-hatted man smirked.

"You said there was a second reason," Hitsugaya grunted, wanting to avoid that particular topic of discussion.

"Right, but the second one _is_ your fault, I'm afraid," he grinned at the smaller shinigami's return scowl. "You have virtually no awareness of your own reiatsu, correct?"

"Yes," Hitsugaya hazarded.

"Ever wonder why?" The impatient glare he received was more telling than any answer he could have received. "Well, the easiest way to understand it would be to equate reiatsu to a smell."

"Must everyone imply that I have body odor?" the white haired shinigami huffed aggravatedly much to Urahara's amusement.

"Perhaps it's a sign," he smirked. "But all aroma-based jokes aside, sensing reiatsu is very similar to smell. Imagine someone lighting a scented candle. For a while, the smell is very prominent, but if that is the only scent a person smells for long enough then, without even realizing it, the person stops noticing the smell. Because you are no longer in complete control of your reiatsu, your senses are taking it in as if it were a separate entity. You're always surrounded by your own reiatsu, so you hardly even realize the increments in which your control is waning. You may not notice it any more, but it's still there. And it's created a barrier, messing with your senses. Anything too weak to break through that barrier doesn't even reach. Until that hollow released his killing intent, he was far too weak for you to sense."

Hitsugaya stood silently for a moment, watching the wall with a contemplative frown. "Do you … have any record of a prize on a hollow named Torquatusa?"

"Ah. So now it has a name, huh?" Hitsugaya refused to respond yet again. "But I doubt it. I've never heard the name before. Not that that means anything with him sneaking around my house like he was. If we can't sense him, why would we have a bounty on him?" Hitsugaya sighed. It had been a stupid question, and he had known it. He shouldn't have expected a decent answer. Just as he turned around to leave however, Urahara surprised him. "But … considering that Ururu dispatched him with a single kick, I'd guess that he was weak enough to assume that you're still able to keep up a fairly stable amount of control. And as long as you don't go do anything stupid, you should have that control for a good four or five days."

The white crowned ex-taichou paused, turning back around just enough to see Urahara bend over the gigai once more. Not only had he actually answered the question, but he had reminded Hitsugaya of another one. "That girl, Ururu…" he began. "She's … the same as Kurotsuchi-fukutaichou?"

Urahara stood straight once more, offering a steely smirk. "Similar, yes. But not the same. If I had to put it simply, Ururu is a crude, unrefined version of Mayuri's lovely daughter."

Hitsugaya mulled over this reply for a second before confirming, "Then, you didn't make her." It was not a question.

Now the be-hatted salesman could not hide his amusement. "No, I did not. I found her. Or, more accurately, little Jinta did. Would you like to hear the story?" Hitsugaya leaned against the doorway, arms folded across his chest, and Urahara took it as a yes.

"It was only a couple of years ago, obviously. But that little brat, Jinta, wandered into my store, grabbed a handful of the sweetest, most unhealthy candy in the shop, and walked right out. Well, I had a duty to my shop and to Tessai, but mostly I was just bored, so I followed him. I was expecting him to run on home or share his shoplifting expertise with friends, like a normal brat would do, but he didn't. Instead, I followed him right into this alleyway. He leaned in to a cardboard box next to a dumpster and started giving the candy to a little girl.

"Now, you can imagine how it felt to watch some ratty kid feed an even rattier kid shoplifted candy within the confines of a cardboard box. Not to mention the fact that the girl looked half-dead. So I grabbed him by his shirt, picked up his little girlfriend, and dragged them back to my shop. Turns out Jinta ran away from home and just happened to find her while he was scrounging around for a place to spend the night. I knew right away that she wasn't truly human so I pulled myself an all-nighter. She was most likely abandoned because the person who created her couldn't get her to move. She was totally inanimate, like a corpse. So I tweaked some things here and there, and little Ururu woke up.

"Ururu and Nemu are similar in the fact that they are both partially artificial, but I was able to pick up on the differences rather quickly. While Nemu's body is artificial and her soul natural, Ururu's body is natural and her soul artificial. She's a pretty interesting little tyke, isn't she?" he turned to see if Hitsugaya would say anything, but there was nobody there.

* * *

Hitsugaya wasn't sure how much more of this madness he could take. All of this illegal experimentation was getting to be a bit much for a single sitting. And it didn't help that his head was hurting too.

He had tried to convince himself that his recent headaches were caused by nothing more than stress. His first appeared after meeting with Ichimaru once again, and the second had been brought on by his encounter with Torquatusa. Both were very stress-inducing situations. And stress headaches, as much as Hitsugaya hated to admit, were more likely than Urahara being wrong. Yet he couldn't delude himself either. With a job like his, he had outgrown run-of-the-mill stress headaches a long time ago. And Urahara was prone to hiding things; in fact, he enjoyed it. Was he not telling him something? If so, what was it and why was he hiding it? Hitsugaya would be the first to tell anyone that Urahara was an idiot, but even so, everything he did was for a reason. Could it possibly be as simple as stress escalating the symptoms? Or was it something else?

Hitsugaya grimaced. As long as he didn't do anything stupid, huh? As if he had a choice.

His endless musing, however, was soon cut off by what appeared to be a small earthquake. He had been heading back to the underground area hoping for a little privacy as Matsumoto and Abarai had commandeered the roof, but it seemed that he would forever be hindered in his efforts to relax. No rest for the wicked, as was often said. For a brief moment, he wondered how well Aizen slept each night. Just as quickly as the thought came though, he abandoned it and decided to search for the source of the earthquake. It wasn't hard to find.

Plopping himself unceremoniously on a make-shift hill, he set his elbow on his knee, his chin on his palm, and watched as none other than Arisawa Tatsuki lifted her fist and slammed it into the ground. The earth beneath her broke away from the force, rocks and dirt spraying into the air. When the debris settled, she was standing in the middle of a small crater. Hitsugaya continued to watch in earnest as she performed the action again and again. Something was forming in front of her fist each time, providing the energy that was tearing apart the rocky ground. It was a bluish-purple light that disappeared and reappeared as she brandished her fist, seeming to solidify an instant before it hit the ground. The small shinigami was quite surprised. Arisawa Tatsuki was solidifying her reiatsu.

He smirked. Now _this_ was something he could handle.

"Oi! Arisawa!"

The lanky teen jolted to attention when the ex-taichou appeared by her side, but relaxed when she realized who he was. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. "Hey! Toushirou, you promised. It's Tatsuki."

"Right," he grunted noncommittally. "Where's Inoue?"

"I made _Orihime_ go home a while ago to cook herself some dinner, but she'll probably be back again to see if I'll eat some," Tatsuki offered a sheepish grin.

"Does she know how far you've progressed with your reiatsu?" Hitsugaya refused to stray from the topic, despite the fact that he was sure Matsumoto would be more than willing to eat anything Tatsuki may wish to avoid. "That was quite a display for such an amateur."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment," she smirked. "And, yeah. She knows. She was the first one I told. But she can't help me too much. Those hairclips of hers make no sense to me."

"That's the way it should be. One's true abilities should be known only to oneself," he huffed. "However, you look like you have yet to gain _any_ ability."

"What was that?!"

"Do you know what you're doing with that light?"

"Well, I … just sort of punch, I guess. And it just shows up," Tatsuki replied, eyeing her hand apprehensively.

"So it's an unconscious control. That's the worst possible way it could develop," the young boy sighed. "You're going to have to fix that if you want to progress any further. Here. Hold out your arm out straight in front of you, hand in a fist." Tatsuki frowned at this demand, but slowly, surely, did as she was told. "Now, imagine a current of water surrounding your body on all sides. Relax; try to see yourself as part of the current as well. I said relax. Don't tense your muscles like that; let the current hold you up instead."

He watched her close her eyes in concentration, taking in every word at face value and trying her absolute hardest to do everything exactly as he instructed. He had seen that expression, that intense concentration, on the faces of many of his division members. Circling around her, checking her posture, her reiatsu flow, he couldn't help but smirk.

"Alright. Next, I want you to disrupt the flow. Picture the current changing its course toward your fist, as if there were a marble-sized whirl pool or even a black hole right in front of your knuckles. Don't rush it at first; let the current flow at a steady speed. When you start to feel strained, that is when you need to pick up speed." A long pause. "Open your eyes."

Tatsuki's eye lids fluttered open to meet a pale purple light floating directly in front of her fist. She stared wide-eyed for a moment before turning to Hitsugaya once more. "Wow. You're good."

"I ought to be. The last step is to give it a solid form. The shape should be simple for your first time; an orb will do. That whirlpool you imagined, picture it imploding." She ground her teeth together, staring the light down as if it were her enemy. The light began to brighten, no longer purple but white, until it finally caved in on itself. Tatsuki winced at the sudden intensity, but it soon diminished, leaving what looked suspiciously like a marble floating in the air.

"_Now_," Hitsugaya confirmed, "you may hit something."

Tatsuki, still rather dazed, blinked at the crystalline orb before shrugging and letting her fist fly. The entire underground shook with the force, dirt and rock shooting high and faster than any time before. The young teen wiped her eyes of debris and dust and looked out on a huge crater at least seven meters in diameter. Well, it was huge for her anyway. "What the hell was that?!" she couldn't help but burst.

"It was the same thing you were doing earlier," the white crowned boy huffed. "I just taught you a better way to do it."

"How did you know exactly how to do it, then?" she countered, leaning in to stare him in the eye.

"Like I said before," he grumbled, pushing her away, "one's true abilities should be known only to oneself. If you go through those motions each time, you should be able to gain speed, precision, and endurance. Keep it up and you'll be able to add power to that list as well. Try it again, but this time don't take so long to relax. Once you get used to the posture, it will come quicker."

Tatsuki didn't know what to say, so she readied herself for a second go.

* * *

Matsumoto Rangiku watched the display from a way away, a large smile growing upon her lips. He was so absorbed in teaching Tatsuki that he hadn't noticed she'd left the roof. He was completely off guard, totally oblivious to everything except the girl in front of him, and she liked it that way. She hadn't seen him so absorbed in anything since the last time he had gone to inspect Squad Three's combat progress the day before they all left for their reconnaissance mission. He hadn't been able to work with their division for a long time. He must have missed it.

She giggled. "You are still very much a taichou. My taichou."

It had been too long since he'd really enjoyed himself. She would have liked to watch the scene a little longer. But such was not her nature. Oh well.

"Taichou! Taichou!"

Hitsugaya whirled around to face his second in command, his unappreciative pout telling all. "Matsumoto, why are here?"

She didn't say a word. Instead, she pulled a piece of paper from between her breasts and shoved it in his face, the crazed smile of a victorious warrior threatening to take over all other features. The further Hitsugaya scanned down the paper, the wider his eyes became. Hastily he tried to snatch it from her, but she held it up where he couldn't reach. "Matsumoto! Where did you get that?!"

Tatsuki watched with interest as the usually calm and collected shinigami's cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. "I stole it out of Urahara-jii's mail box!" the busty fukutaichou chimed with glee. "How come _you_ never told me about it?"

"Because I knew you'd do this."

"Do what?"

"Insist on going."

"Taichou! That's a great idea!" Matsumoto plowed on. Tatsuki could no longer tell whether his face was red from embarrassment or rage. "I'd love to go! After all, I'm the most fit to take up the role, ne?"

"What are you two talking about?" the high schooler finally ventured.

"Oh, Tatsuki! Taichou's so mean!" the woman began, instantly switching from playful to tearful. "I went through so much to find him again, getting Yamamoto-soutaichou to let me go, coming down to earth, even being Urahara-jii's delivery girl! And how does he repay me? He hides this from me!"

The buxom fukutaichou now held up the same piece of paper that had flustered Hitsugaya so for Tatsuki to read as the smaller shinigami looked away grumbling. It was a letter explaining that Suzumiya-sensei, Vice Principal of Karakura High School, wished to have a parent-teacher meeting after school on Monday. She would like to discuss Hitsugaya's and Renji's acclimatization to Japanese life, as they had only recently arrived from America and she wanted to make sure that the change went smoothly for them.

Tatsuki baulked.

"I thought you said you weren't old enough to be my mother," Hitsugaya grumbled.

"I'm not gonna be your mother," Matsumoto countered without skipping a beat. "I'm going to be the well-meaning, ever-so-beautiful eldest sister who has to go instead because your mother, as sad as it is, couldn't leave America with you. Renji's already agreed with it."

"Well, I don't. I wasn't planning on going at all."

"But, Taichou! If we don't go, we'll blow our cover!" she whined.

"It's more likely that you'll let something slip than it is that she'll assume we're shinigami because I refuse to take part in a parent-teacher conference," he replied as cold as ever.

Matsumoto sighed. "Very well. I figured something like this would happen. I know you too well."

"Obviously you don't."

"And that's why," she pressed on, ignoring her taichou, "Urahara's calling to confirm even as we speak!" Her smirk was comparable to that of a demon's, made to seem all the more wicked due to the stunned expression of her 4'4" victim.

"You went behind my back and made a deal with Urahara Kisuke just so you could take me to a completely unnecessary meeting and see me mildly embarrassed," Hitsugaya replied, incredulous.

"Don't sell me short, Taichou. I don't want to see you mildly embarrassed; I wanna see you _really_ embarrassed. And besides, who was the one who left me in Soul Society just because he was worried his _second-in-command_ would want to do something to help him?"

"Touché."

"So you're okay with it?" Matsumoto held out her hands pleadingly.

"It's not as if I have much choice," he sighed.

"Hear that, Tatsuki?! He says I can go!" the well-endowed shinigami jumped up and down with glee before embracing both her taichou and Tatsuki in a suffocating grip of death. "I have to go tell Urahara-jii to call them up before you change your mind!"

Silence reigned for all of ten seconds before her words registered in Hitsugaya's mind.

Then: "_Matsumoto!_"

But she was already long gone.

* * *

"Why?" Toushirou muttered under his breath, hand hiding his eyes from Tatsuki's view. "Why?"

"Why didn't I just strangle her the moment she first walked into my office?!"

Tatsuki jumped back at the unexpected burst of murderous reiatsu spewing forth from his small body, but what was even more surprising for her was how quickly it dissipated.

"Damn woman…" he finally sighed, turning back to face Tatsuki as if nothing had happened at all. "Oi. Who told you to stop? Try again, taking less time to conjure the images. Have the feel and the image already in your head before you even begin."

"R-Right," Tatsuki drew herself back into the correct posture and readied herself for another try. Before she could begin however, she frowned and looked back down at her newfound teacher.

"Do you have something to say, or are you just going to stare at me all evening long?" he scowled.

"She called you Taichou, right?" Tatsuki finally vocalized, a thoughtful expression somewhere between curiosity and self-consciousness alighting her face.

"It is … was … my rank in Seireitei."

"Ah. Well, since sensei doesn't sound right because you're in my class and all, and I already have a shihan… Could I call you that too?"

Toushirou looked blankly up at her for a moment before turning to the side. "Hmph. If that's what you prefer."

"Yeah," she replied with a grin, looking straight out and lifting her arm to begin once more. "It is."

* * *

Chapter Thirteen End

* * *

Language Index:

**Sensei** – teacher; master

**Shihan** – instructor; fencing or martial arts teacher


	15. Put Up Your Good Hand

Alright. Did all of you see that new summary I put up for this story? Well, it sucks. And quite frankly, the last one sucked too. So I have a favor to ask of my readers. Would anyone like to come up with a decent summary that I can stick in there? It would make me a very happy windy-chan if someone would.

Anywho, on with the horrifically delayed story. I'm sorry. I can't stick to a schedule to save my life.

* * *

"_Men are not prisoners of fate, but only prisoners of their own minds.__"_

_Franklin D. Roosevelt_

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

Put Up Your Good Hand

* * *

Urahara Kisuke rubbed the sleep from his eyes, setting the newly repaired gigai down on the closest couch. It was half-undressed, limp, and about to fall over onto the floor. He swore he even saw drool trickling from its lips. The absolute best part of it all: it looked exactly like Hitsugaya-kun. "Maybe I should take a picture," he smirked at the thought.

"Maybe I should kill you before you have the chance."

Urahara jumped in surprise, turning around to meet the real Hitsugaya staring coldly at him from the doorway. "Never could take a joke, could you?"

"That was no joke. It was a bona fide threat," the boy huffed in reply, his gaze rotating toward the gigai. "If Matsumoto got her hands on a picture like that, my credibility with my division would be shot f-" He stopped, realizing exactly what he had said, before taking a deep breath and concluding. "For decades."

The aged shinigami sighed, taking a look at the clock hanging on the wall. "Since I know you didn't come for the gigai, why exactly did you decide to grace me with your presence at two in the morning?"

"Tatsuki refused to leave. Inoue only just dragged her home." He was silent for a moment, an unexpected hint of hesitance in his evading eyes. "Matsumoto wants to learn bankai."

_Ah, so that was it. _Urahara smirked. "And what do _you_ think about that?"

"I'm no longer her commanding officer. What I think doesn't matter," Hitsugaya evaded.

"And yet she still calls you taichou, ne?" the be-hatted man noted. "You won't be able to supervise her the entire time. And even when you can, you won't be able to help her."

"She can handle it."

"I don't know…. Even if she can handle it, it would be such tedious work for me…."

"I could always call Kuchiki here to kick you around until you agree," the boy shinigami added a threat of his own.

"The big, bad taichou's gonna call on a little girl to help him?" Urahara mocked mischievously.

"_She_ can wear high heels."

"A fine argument! I'm convinced!" the salesman acquiesced without skipping a beat. "I will do what I can to help your lady friend achieve bankai on one condition." Hitsugaya sent him a peeved glare in anticipation of what was to come. "When you catch wind of my next brilliant scheme, you have to follow through with it without a single word of complaint."

He watched in amusement as the young ex-taichou mulled over that particular condition. No doubt he was measuring the pros and cons. It didn't take him very long; there weren't many pros. "Fine," he finally sighed, "if that's what it takes to satiate a hunger like yours."

Urahara found this answer genuinely intriguing. "And what sort of hunger is that?"

It was a while before Hitsugaya replied, but when he did Urahara could hardly believe his own ears. "I suppose it's the sort that refuses to cease until everyone else has had their fill."

As the wide-eyed salesman watched the boy leave, he nearly didn't notice the black cat that sneaked up behind him and wrapped itself around his ankle. "Surprised?" it asked, and Urahara swore, impossible as he knew it was, that it was grinning.

He chuckled. "Yes, my dear Yoruichi, I believe I was."

"Heard those words before, haven't you?" the Yoruichi cat purred knowingly.

Urahara exhaled, leaning back to stretch his spine. "More or less," he replied simply. "Speaking of which, little Hitsugaya-kun has just agreed not to complain about my next dastardly plot. I need to get started right away before he forgets."

"That awful, huh?"

"Well … maybe a teensy bit," he held his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart to illustrate, "but it'll give me the answer I need to pull it all together. So, really, I'm doing him _two_ favors. And, since I'm proving to be so generous, I think I had better use our pretty lady Rangiku-chan to start things off. Something tells me she'll be _very_ interested in this particular delivery."

The quirky salesman held out an envelope with an address printed on it for Yoruichi to read. The cat cocked its head, raising a whiskered brow. "Couldn't you just call him on the phone?"

"Yoruichi-love, I'm disappointed in you," he mock scolded as he stored the envelope in his robes. "I mean, honestly, where's the fun in that?"

* * *

Matsumoto did nothing different than what she had done every morning since she had arrived in Karakura. She reminded a grumpy Hitsugaya that, yes, his going to school was pointless, but, yes, he had to go anyway. She giggled as he brushed his teeth and as he slammed the door in her face before she could giggle as he took his shower. She cooked up some grand recipe she had gotten from Orihime, and he took one look at it before making himself some toast instead. She then ate the concoction herself since no one else was brave enough. She even waved a cheery goodbye as he trudged out the door after Renji, muttering curses upon her wretched soul. But this morning, something was off; she wasn't the only one who had done all of these things.

She continued grinning and waving until Hitsugaya gave her one last glare before turning the corner, but as soon as he was gone, so was her smile. Slowly, she turned to face a still grinning and waving Urahara Kisuke. "Alright. What are you up to now?"

"So suspicious," he whined airily, heading back inside the shop. "I'm hurt."

Matsumoto was not a foot behind. "I'd be crazy if I wasn't," she huffed. "Now, out with it! I'm a very busy woman."

"You certainly are. I have another job for you," the be-hatted salesman smirked, holding out the envelope.

The buxom fukutaichou pouted, hands at her hips. She didn't want to have to deal with some stupid delivery when she was going to be meeting with her taichou's Vice Principal later. She had to get ready, get into the character. But Urahara was doing all of this for her taichou, right? He was trying to help in his own, disturbing, Urahara way, and Matsumoto Rangiku would do virtually anything to help her taichou.

She pursed her lips and grabbed the envelope.

And she forgot all about the parent-teacher conference.

"This … This is … impossible," she managed, her mouth suddenly unbearably dry. The name on the envelope… The address… She looked directly into Urahara's eyes, searching for any sign that this was a joke. It had to be. "It's impossible."

"Nothing's impossible, Rangiku-chan."

Matsumoto couldn't take her eyes off the sloppy handwriting. "I tried to tell myself that it was all just a coincidence. It's not like no two people in the world could have the same surname, right? Right? I spent years trying to convince myself to give up hope. I moved on; I forced myself to get up and act like nothing had ever happened! You can't tell me that all of that was for nothing. You can't tell me that you're being serious. You just can't." She was on the verge of tears. This wasn't right. She knew how Urahara worked, and yet she still couldn't believe it. This was just too far. "He's dead. He died twenty years ago."

"The details of what actually happened that day have been slightly exaggerated," Urahara replied, all traces of humor gone. He wasn't joking; he was really serious.

"He's alive."

"In a manner of speaking."

Matsumoto Rangiku clutched the envelope tightly to her chest, a large grimace consuming her full, luscious lips. "Alive enough to have three kids, apparently."

* * *

Aizen Sousuke was taking a rare moment for himself, away from the many arrancar that served no more purpose than to wait on him hand and foot. He sat at a large desk, pen in hand and writing what, for all intents and purposes, looked like a love letter. The very thought seemed to scream paradox, but Ichimaru Gin couldn't keep himself from thinking it. Perhaps that was part of the gentle killer's charm. But whatever it was, Gin greatly enjoyed tugging at its strings.

"I hear yer little bug got squished," echoed his familiar Kansai-ben, finally motivating the stoic brunette to lift his head from the papers scattered in front of him.

The man smiled knowingly before returning to his writing. "Well, it was inevitable, was it not? After you put such an idea into its head."

"Me?" Gin held his hand to his chest in mock surprise. "Whaddeva' could ya mean?"

"Gin, you derive far too much pleasure in playing with my pawns. It's what I've always admired about you."

"I'm flattered."

"You shouldn't be," entered a third, colder voice. "It's disgraceful."

"Ah, Kaname. I'm glad you were able to make it," Aizen intervened, ignoring the apparent hostilities between his two closest subordinates. "How are the recent preparations faring?"

"We will be ready within the week, Aizen-sama," Tousen Kaname bowed respectfully.

"Hn," Aizen stood up, hand to his chin as if in deep thought. Ichimaru knew better. Whatever he was about to say, he had already planned it long ago. "We are ahead of schedule. Excellent. Then I would prefer we put a hold on our current activities in order to pursue more … personal interests." He turned to look meaningfully into Ichimaru Gin's squinting eyes before lifting his gaze to encompass both of the men in the room once more. "I will handle the preparatory work myself. The rest I will leave in your capable hands. Gin, Kaname."

When he finished speaking, the two shinigami took it as their cue to leave. Silence reigned between them for a time as they walked down the main hallway, but it did not last long. Gin was quick to notice Tousen's stiffness. "Ya don' like my little game wit' Hitsugaya-kun?"

Tousen's grimace grew. "He is Aizen-sama's enemy, and therefore, he is my enemy as well. His well-being does not concern me."

"Ah," Ichimaru smirked. "So it's _me_ ya don' like."

"I understand why Aizen-sama puts up with you, and I will stand by his decision as firmly as I would my own, but even if he can overlook your corrupt ways, I cannot. Your motives are even more selfish and deranged than your hideous expression." It was hard to miss the disgust in his tone.

Ichimaru's grin never faltered, though it seemed to hold something more within it now. Curiosity, perhaps. "But aren' ya the same?"

"No."

"A'right. Suit yerself. But, ya know, it makes everythin' a lot more interestin' if ya jus' accept it."

"There is nothing I need to accept," the blind man nearly spat. "I am obviously more at peace with my decisions and my ideals than you are ever capable of becoming in your twisted madness."

"Tha's cold. If ya had left such a pretty lady behind wit' a snot-nosed, mini taichou, ya'd feel a little off too. But all ya had to toss was that big, fox friend o' yers, ne?"

Gin watched as Tousen Kaname's unseeing eyes widened, and he nearly drew his zanpakutou before catching himself and leaving down a branch of the main hallway. And as he watched, his perpetual smirk began to flicker for just a moment before returning with full force.

After all, there was no use in bothering himself with the past. What was lost was lost; and what he had yet to lose, he would lose soon enough.

* * *

Matsumoto shuffled past the people gathered around the entrance and marched into the main room, eyes peeled for her target, but the only people she saw inside were three women huddled together whispering and a freckled, teenage receptionist who was staring intently at her boobs. "I'm up here," she scolded, folding her arms across her chest. He hastily jerked his head upward, blushing madly and looking altogether quite embarrassed. She sighed. "I need to speak to the owner of this place. He _is_ here, isn't he?"

The boy nodded, still as red as a tomato. "He's in 103, but I think he's busy," he stuttered, only to have the woman stomp away mid-sentence."

"Oh, he's not too busy for me. _Trust me_."

Just as she was about a foot from the door labeled 103, it burst open, and a middle-aged man with dark hair wearing a standard-issue doctor's coat stormed out yelling. "For the last time, you are not going to die from that stupid cut! Just let me get some antiseptic and-!"

He stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw the familiar maple golden waves that he had been trying to hard to avoid for the last two months.

Matsumoto looked him directly in the eye. "You've aged. I didn't even recognize you when I saw you. I guess I can see it a little, now that I'm up close…," she began shakily, all of her former bravado seeming to trickle down the drain.

"Rangiku…"

"It's been a long time, Kurosaki-taichou."

* * *

"She's late."

"Relax," Abarai Renji sighed. Watching Hitsugaya-taichou so apprehensive had been fun at first, but after the sixth or seventh time he looked down at his watch and stated the obvious, it had become rather boring. "Ran's _always_ late."

"I know," the small boy grunted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "That's the problem."

"I'm heeeeere!" came a shrill, far-too-happy call from around the corner. Renji swore shorty's shoulders slumped a good foot lower the moment the voice made itself known. He grinned. "Sorry I'm late, Taichou! It wasn't my fault this time! It was all Urahara-jii! I barely had time to go back and take a shower!"

"Yo," Renji greeted as Matsumoto Rangiku came into sight.

"Well then, shall we?" the woman smiled, exuding excitement from every pore of her body.

Hitsugaya-taichou, he noted, was the exact opposite. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

Oh, yes. This was going to be very interesting.

The three shinigami entered the Vice Principal's office to find it completely empty. A desk, a couple of chairs, some plaques, but not a single sign of any Vice Principals. Hitsugaya-taichou raised a single brow as Ran clapped her hands happily. "Ha! This means I'm earlier than your teacher!" she smirked.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" The three of them whirled around to meet none other than Suzumiya-sensei herself, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "You were rather late, so I thought it would be alright to get something to drink. I hope I didn't keep you."

Ran's smirk faded instantly, and shorty couldn't suppress a wry grin of his own. "No, no. Not at all!" the buxom fukutaichou hastily saved. "I'm the one who was late. I should be the one apologizing."

"Well, as long as you didn't wait long," Suzumiya nodded. "Please, sit." She motioned to the chairs set out in front of the desk as she maneuvered into her own. After a quick sip of the heated mug, she turned her attention back to her three guests. She held out a hand to Ran. "It's nice to meet you, Miss Matsumoto. Your siblings have been quite interesting additions to our school."

"I would expect nothing less," Ran chuckled, shaking Suzumiya's outstretched hand.

"If I may ask a question, though…" the tawny haired Vice Principal hesitated a moment before continuing, "Is there a reason all three of you have different surnames?"

"Oh, that. That's nothing. Mother's always been a bit eccentric. She's been married at least five times, and each of us was fortunate enough to end up with a different father. She doesn't like her surname at all, thinks it's too boring, so we were all stuck with different ones. None of her later husbands were around long enough for her to legally change them anyway."

Matsumoto said this so nonchalantly that even Renji was almost inclined to believe her. Needless to say, shorty was pretty darn surprised. "Oh, I see. I'm sorry if I offended…"

"Nah," Ran waved it aside. "We're used to it. Not like it's something new or anything. Actually, I don't think the apple fell too far from the tree, ne?" She laughed, and Suzumiya nodded. "So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

"Ah, yes. Well, both Toushirou and Renji have been wonderful students, although Renji is prone to losing his temper every now and then. Their grades are decent, and they seem to be getting along well with quite a few of Oda-sensei's students, so you should have no worries when it comes to that. However…"

"Yes?" Ran pressed, obviously very interested in what was to come. Renji wasn't quite as thrilled. Having some old lady, who was actually quite a few decades younger than him, talk to someone else about him as if he wasn't even there was a little annoying.

"However, there are some things that have a few of their teachers worried," the Vice Principal sighed. "Oda-sensei seems to think they're perfectly fine, boys will be boys, and various other phrases assuring me that there's nothing to worry about. But Kawano-sensei and Miyake-sensei think otherwise. It seems that often times, the two of them will space out or fall asleep for an entire class period multiple times each day. And Miyake-sensei is concerned that Renji may have some serious problems with authority. Sometimes he disobeys a teacher's request for the sole purpose of disobedience itself. Then there's Toushirou…"

"Wait, wait a second," Ran interrupted, fighting hard not to laugh. "Did you say they'll space out all the time?" Suzumiya-sensei nodded, and Ran could no longer hold back the laughter. Renji grunted, and Hitsugaya-taichou let out an unaffected "che". So what if they skipped out on a class or two every once in a while? Algebra was _boring_.

"Sorry," she muttered as she calmed down. "A bit of an inside joke. As for Renji, this Oda-sensei seems to have her head in the right spot. He's always been that way. Just let him have his fun while he still can."

"I see," the Vice Principal replied, even though she obviously didn't. "Though, perhaps, you should look into a good therapist? If your family history is as you say it is, then…"

"We'll look into it," Ran interrupted yet again, attempting to save Renji from any further discussion concerning that particular topic. "You were going to say something about Taichou?"

"What? Taichou?" Suzumiya-sensei questioned.

"Oh! That's our nickname for Toushirou!" the well-endowed fukutaichou hastily covered up her slip. Hitsugaya-taichou frowned at what he knew was about to happen, and right on cue, Rangiku's arms pulled him deep into her breasts. "'Cause he's my _little taichou_!"

What happened next was the very last thing Renji had been expecting. As soon as the words were out of Ran's mouth, shorty's eyes widened like soccer balls and he pushed her forcefully to the floor in a mad attempt free himself from her grip. She stared up at him, as shocked as Renji was, but what was even more disconcerting was the expression on Hitsugaya's face. He looked for all the world like a cornered animal staring death in the face.

"Don't … Don't call me that. Don't ever call me that again."

With that, he bolted out the door. Renji made to go after him, but Ran held him back by the wrist. She stood up slowly, dusting off her dress. "Don't worry. He'll be fine," she sighed in response to Renji's confused stare.

She then turned to face Suzumiya, who was quite speechless at the moment, and smiled. "You were saying something about a therapist?"

* * *

Hitsugaya forced himself to breathe evenly as he leaned back against a rise on the roof of the building. "Dammit!" he croaked, slamming his head back into the wall. It didn't help. In fact, it only served to make his head ache worse. "Dammit!"

"Hn. Figures I'd find a shinigami hiding out up here."

The ex-taichou tensed, turning to face the owner of the familiar voice. "What are you doing here?" he growled as Kurosaki Isshin stepped forward.

The older man pouted rather childishly. "How cruel. I come just to see you, and you talk to me like I'm a hollow!"

"Did Urahara send you then?"

"I guess you could say that," Kurosaki shrugged. "But I did volunteer."

"Tell him I'm not in the mood for his stupid games," Hitsugaya replied darkly, turning away to look out at the city surrounding them.

"Nonsense!" the man countered gleefully, grabbing hold of Hitsugaya's arm and dragging him bodily down the stairway. "Urahara tells me that you're not allowed to complain about this one. You're not weaseling out today! You have no idea what I've been through today just so I can see this!"

Hitsugaya considered yelling "Kidnapper!" but decided against it, allowing Kurosaki to bulldoze their way down the stairs and out the school grounds without struggling.

Anything was better than returning to that office.


	16. Understatement of the Year

I stuck some weird allusions in this one. I don't really know why. I hope it's still okay. Also, this chapter's a bit choppier than usual. I actually did that on purpose.

* * *

"_The more alternatives, the more difficult the choice.__"_

_Abbe' D'Allanival_

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

Understatement of the Year

* * *

"I don't want to hear it!"

The silence of an otherwise peaceful and quiet evening was brutally interrupted as four stomping feet made their way into the mercifully empty Urahara Shoten. Neither Matsumoto Rangiku nor Abarai Renji were very pleased with the outcome of the parent-teacher conference, and both were far too stubborn for their own good.

"Ran, I know he told you what's going on! You know what's wrong with him! Why won't you tell anyone else?!" Renji instigated, repeating the question for the umpteenth time since they had left Karakura High School.

"I told you already! He didn't tell me anything I couldn't figure out myself! I don't know what's wrong!" Rangiku once again insisted as her companion slammed the door behind him.

"Why do you keep lying?!"

"You would too!" Rangiku whirled around to face him, nearly screaming now. "If Kuchiki-taichou ordered you to do something, you'd listen too, wouldn't you?! No matter how much you may not understand him, no matter how much you may hate him, a fukutaichou always stays loyal to his taichou!"

Renji was sick and tired of hearing the same excuses over and over. He had been here for over a week, and everyone still refused to tell him what the hell was going on! He wasn't going to play this stupid game any longer. He was going to find out what was happening once and for all! And if he could let out a bit of his frustration while he was doing it, then that was just a bonus. "The hell are you saying, Ran?! You're starting to sound like Hinamori!"

Matsumoto froze, pale gray eyes fierce with a silent intensity. The volume of her voice had dropped exponentially, yet somehow she still managed a tone of such icy severity that even Hitsugaya would be hard pressed to imitate it. "Are you implying that Taichou is the same as that traitor?"

"No," the redheaded fukutaichou replied, exasperated. "I'm saying that something's wrong with Hitsugaya-taichou, and yet you keep lying to everyone about it! I'm not going to sit around and pretend to believe your bull any longer! He's not even a real taichou anymore! Some things are more important than orders, Ran! You can't be loyal to him if he's _dead_!"

"It's not about orders, Renji!" Rangiku shot back. "I know he's in trouble! I know something's wrong! But I'm his second! What else can I do but support him?!"

Renji couldn't take this much longer. He grabbed his fellow fukutaichou by the shoulders, holding her forcefully in place. "You can tell me the damned truth! Did he tell you what's wrong?!"

"Yes!" she finally shrieked, pushing him off with a strength afforded to her through anger and adrenaline. "If you wanna know so damned much! He told me the moment we met up again!"

"Then what the hell happened back there?! Why the hell did he run off like that?!" Renji continued to press, completely unaffected by the less muscular shinigami's shove. He remained just as loud as her, if not louder.

"I don't know!" she shouted, her voice scratchy and hoarse as she collapsed back into counter. She cradled her head in her hand, ignoring the painful counter edge even as it dug into her back. "I really don't know."

She had switched from raspy screaming to strained whispers so quickly that Renji was struck completely dumb. All of his desperate rage disappeared in that instant. When he saw her slumped into her hands like that, shivering with nonexistent tears, he knew that she was telling the truth. He groaned and, with a sheepish scratch of the back of his neck, leaned up against the counter next to her.

It took a moment to regain his voice. "I … er … Back there, you said he'd be okay, but … where is he?"

Rangiku too took some time before she could reply. But when she did, she lifted her face from her hands, and Renji was glad to see the tiniest hints of a grin on her lips. "He's with … an old friend."

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou stared apprehensively down at the untouched, fast food kid's meal laid out before him. It reminded him of many, many things he'd seen in the past, but none of them were edible and most came with a foul stench that rather made him want to puke. His frown only deepening, he held his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat in order to get his newfound companion's attention.

It didn't work.

"Kurosaki-san … why are we here?" he growled under his breath instead, pushing the meal across the table. Eating that stuff was the _last_ thing he'd want to do with it.

Finally, the older man looked up from his burger. "I was hungry," he shrugged. "Besides, it looked like you needed to cool off a bit, right?"

Hitsugaya turned away with a huff. "That's none of your business."

"Aw, don't be that way," Kurosaki Isshin whined as he leaned over the table with a huge smile accented by bits of bun and burger yet to be swallowed. "Think of me as a daddy! You can tell me anything!"

The young ex-taichou quickly intercepted him, holding him back with his hand as a vein throbbed obnoxiously in his forehead. "What's the _real _reason we're here?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Grin morphing into a childish pout, Kurosaki returned to his burger. "Well, the guy I'm taking you to see isn't off work yet."

Hitsugaya grabbed for his drink, the only part of the meal that he was willing to touch, and took a long, drawn out sip. "So what?"

"But charging in while he's busy would be rude."

Hitsugaya nearly inhaled the straw. "And dragging me across town against my will isn't!?"

* * *

"An old friend, eh?" echoed a voice just before Urahara Kisuke waltzed into the store front. Renji and Rangiku turned to face him, Renji's expression rather confused while Ran looked quite a bit more accusing. "Wow. I didn't think he'd act so fast."

"When I showed up, he decided to take the rest of the day off," Rangiku replied, eyeing the blonde suspiciously. "Said something about 'Kisuke and his kid'."

Urahara grinned sheepishly. "Well, none-the-less, I really didn't expect that you two would be able to get permission from that guy so easily."

"Permission? What permission? Kurosaki-taichou just left a message on someone's answering machine saying that he had a surprise for him," the buxom fukutaichou clarified, raising a golden brow.

Renji looked from Urahara's disbelieving face to Ran's questioning glare. From getting 'permission' to 'Kurosaki-taichou', he didn't have a clue what was going on and was beginning to wonder whether he really wanted to. But one thing he knew was for sure.

"We're screwed, aren't we?"

* * *

"Well, what do you think?"

Hitsugaya stared up at the familiar site with a large frown. The erotic billboard had been replaced, but he still recognized it without a problem. The sign over the doors reading "Karakura Hospital" was a dead giveaway. Kurosaki had led him to the very hospital he had first seen when he had arrived. _Now,_ Hitsugaya had to wonder, _why the hell would he do that?_

"It's a hospital," he grunted.

"It's not just any hospital," Kurosaki whined. "It's Ryuuken's hospital! I had a feeling _he_ was the one Kisuke really needed, but he hates the guy's guts, so I've gotta be the middle man!"

"In other words, Urahara is using you," the smaller shinigami replied, "and you're letting him."

"Damn straight!"

Kurosaki's tone was so sure and his grin so broad that Hitsugaya almost didn't believe his ears, but there was no mistake. The man was enjoying this as much as Urahara did. He spoke with Urahara as an equal, and yet he was willing to jump through veritable flaming hoops at his slightest request. Even Kurosaki Ichigo, Hitsugaya realized, couldn't get that sort of rise out of the man. "What happened between you two?" he finally asked as they stepped inside.

Kurosaki paused after the question, staring down at his companion awkwardly before letting out a sigh. He grabbed Hitsugaya's wrist and dragged him right through the front room and into a maze of hallways. "Not us _two_," he chuckled, "us _three_."

"There are _more_ of you?"

The older man's chuckle quickly turned into an outright laughing fit. "I guess that's up to you to decide," he barely managed as they stepped into an elevator. Hitsugaya decided that it would probably be best to remain quiet for the rest of the trip.

They left the elevator four or five floors later and walked down more hallways. It was quite a bit like the fourth division, he mused. Once you got lost, you stayed lost. But, finally, Kurosaki stopped in front of a particularly lonesome door with a plaque next to it and knocked. The plaque read "Ishida Ryuuken, Director." Hitsugaya frowned. Wasn't Ishida the name of Kurosaki Ichigo's Quincy friend? He froze.

_Oh, crap._

As he turned around to leave, however, the door swung open wide to reveal the stoic face of pale haired man clutching a small bottle with a skull and crossbones just above the label. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't stuff this down your throat."

And just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, Kurosaki grabbed him under his armpits and lifted him bodily in the air until he was face to face with the angry hospital director. "Surprise!"

Ishida promptly slammed the door.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou stomped through the many white-washed halls, his grimace only growing as the minutes dragged on. He had already been in a bad mood to begin with, and then Kurosaki just had to show up and make everything ten times worse. And now, to top it all off, he was lost in a hospital. A hospital directed by a Quincy, no less! The irony of it all was _not_ helping.

That insane, old man had gone through quite a bit in order to convince the hospital director to reopen the door, but once he succeeded, he had asked Hitsugaya to wait outside and had even given him directions to the nearest vending machine. Unfortunately, the directions had been wrong. Very wrong.

"The next time he crouches, I swear I'll strangle him…" he grunted under his breath as he turned another corner and rammed right into none other than Ishida Uryuu.

"Ah! You're the shinigami that met us at the gate. Hitsugaya-taichou, was it?" the teenager questioned, eyes narrowing as he adjusted his glasses. Before Hitsugaya could answer, however, he continued, "What are you doing here?"

"I was dragged here against my will by one of Urahara's lackeys," the former taichou replied with more than a little aggravation. In truth, it took everything in his power to stay calm. What were the odds that the last two Quincies in existence would both be on the same floor of the same hospital the one day there was a shinigami visiting? Between his undeniable rage and his building frustrations, he was beginning to wonder whether he should just leave.

"Really? I wonder what for." The boy seemed genuinely intrigued by this, but what struck Hitsugaya was how easily he believed it. That pathetic salesman really didn't care what people thought about him at all.

But before Hitsugaya could give a sarcastic response, the P.A. system erupted. "Hitsugaya Toushirou! Hitsugaya Toushirou! Your father is waiting for you on the fifth floor, Room 535. I repeat, Hitsugaya Toushirou!"

Hitsugaya felt his hands ball into fists as he quietly seethed, letting the announcement finish. "Excuse me," he said through clenched teeth, bowing before he turned around and began walking away with a measured pace. "I have to go kill someone now."

Uryuu watched as the boy taichou looked up at the numbers of each door and followed accordingly. He frowned, eyes narrowing once again, and without another word, he left.

Room 535 was his father's office.

* * *

"Toushirou-kun," Kurosaki Isshin smiled when Hitsugaya finally made it back. "I was worried about you!"

His concern was met with a murderous burst of reiatsu. _"Father?"_

"They wouldn't have let me page you if they knew we weren't related," the older man whined. "Besides, we have more important things to do right now than argue, right? Forward march!" Kurosaki led him into the office, which appeared to be completely normal. That was, until Kurosaki stepped toward a large painting of a huntress passively watching a stag be mutilated by a group of hounds and lifted it to reveal a winding staircase careening down floor after floor into blackness.

Hitsugaya sighed as he resigned himself to the inevitable and stepped down. "This is so clichéd, it hurts."

"Welcome to Earth," Kurosaki replied with a grin.

The two descended for some time before coming to another door and entering a room not unlike every other in the hospital. The walls were whitewashed, the ceiling high, but, Hitsugaya noted, there was no furniture. "What now?" he asked.

"Well, this place is specifically designed to hide reiatsu. This was where Uryuu trained to regain his powers," the older man explained hesitantly. Hitsugaya did not like where this was going. "What's about to happen is pretty similar to what happened back then."

"And what happened back then?" the young ex-taichou questioned, brow raised.

"Sorry, Toushirou-kun," he whined. "It was the only way I could get him to agree to help out!"

"_What_ was?" Hitsugaya demanded yet again, jaw clenched.

"Anou … You might want to duck."

Hitsugaya's eyes widened just before he yanked his head to the side, and a giant, glistening blue arrow grazed his cheek.

* * *

Kurosaki Ichigo strode purposefully down the sidewalk, muttering curses and death threats all the while. What the hell was going on, anyway?! This made no sense at all! It was crazy! So, naturally, he figured Urahara was to blame for it all, and he was on his way there right now.

Just as he was about to offer another string of insults, however, he noticed someone else approaching. And from the small glint of moonlight on glasses, he figured it was Uryuu. "What are you doing here?" he asked when they had finally converged in Urahara Shoten's front yard.

"I need to speak with Urahara," the bespectacled teenager replied darkly.

"Funny," Ichigo scowled. "Looks like we've both got the same pest problem."

Uryuu didn't reply, instead reaching out to open the door. He shook the handle a bit, but it wouldn't budge. "Locked."

"Allow me," the red head hissed, lifting his right leg to kick the door open and promptly interrupting an awkward silence between Urahara, Renji, and Rangiku.

"Ah! Visitors!" Urahara grinned, glad for the change in pace. Unfortunately, it didn't last long. The two high school students were in his face so fast that even he didn't see it coming.

"What are you doing sending _shinigami_ into _my_ family's hospital?"

"Why the hell is _Kon_ running around in my _dad's_ body?!"

Urahara shied away timidly. "Er … Why don't I go get some drinks?"

* * *

Hitsugaya blinked away the sweat sliding down his forehead and into his eyes as he allowed himself another hasty shunpo. And another. And another. Seriously, did that man _ever_ stop?

His grimace becoming more defined, he allowed himself another look around the room. Ishida Ryuuken was at his tail, firing off the Quincy arrows at rapid speeds, often times even firing more than one at a time. He wasn't the least bit tired either, the pale haired boy noted with more than a little contempt. The man's bow was nearly as tall as he was, and the arrows he was shooting were no mere playthings either. He wielded the weapon with a dexterity he did not know was possible with such an instrument. But now was no time to be admiring another's skill, especially when it was being used against him.

Those arrows were becoming increasingly difficult to avoid, Hitsugaya acknowledged grudgingly. And the fact that they were being created by using his own reiatsu was not helping his self-esteem any. Normally, concealing his reiatsu from the greedy Quincy's grasp would have been an easy task, but now he had virtually no control over it at all. It was one of the most frustrating experiences he had ever faced.

Because of this disability of his, there weren't many options available to him. He had three choices. He could keep avoiding and try to outlast the pale haired man; he could attempt to block the oncoming onslaught with Hyourinmaru; or he could retaliate.

At this last thought, however, he turned his gaze not on Ishida but on Kurosaki. The man stood in the center of the room, watching the other two running about in their interesting twist to the game of tag. His arms were folded across his chest, one foot tapping the floor in a steady rhythm. But what caught Hitsugaya's attention was not that. It was the man's expression. It was stone cold, observing with an icy intensity that the younger shinigami had thought impossible for the man to portray.

But, impossible or not, Hitsugaya certainly got the message. Retaliation would _not_ be a wise option.

Grinding his teeth together, he stepped into shunpo once more, darting across the room as he pulled out his gikongan dispenser and quickly shoved the candy down his throat. His soul shot out from the gigai, which scrambled over to Kurosaki, while he ducked under another barrage. He wiped the sweat from his brow and pulled Hyourinmaru from its sheath.

All of this running was starting to get on his nerves.

* * *

"So … Dad's a shinigami?" Ichigo barely managed through his slack jaw.

"And my father actually consorts with him?" Uryuu added, equally shocked.

"Isn't that just grand?" Urahara beamed. "That makes you two like a modern day Romeo and Juliet!"

Renji dropped his glass as Rangiku pouted. "That play had nothing to do with any of this," the busty woman huffed.

"But … But _how_?!" the substitute shinigami nearly screamed, too lost in his earlier discovery to have even realized that he had just been made fun of. "He … He's my _dad_!"

"Exactly!"

"Hunh?"

"The story behind your father's sad fate and Ryuuken's characteristic snobbishness is a long, painful tale of conflict, deceit, and sacrifice," Urahara intoned as if he were reciting an epic tragedy. "You guys wouldn't be interested."

"Oh, we're interested," Ichigo growled, lifting a foot and slamming it down on Urahara's chair. "We're all just _dying_ to hear."

"Indeed," Uryuu agreed, the glare he offered the blonde salesman somehow made all the more menacing through his lenses.

"I'm already dead," Renji grunted noncommittally, grabbing two of the stools from the behind the store counter and handing one to Rangiku. He hadn't quite made up his mind about whether he was ready to hear all of this insanity. Besides, he didn't even know who this Ryuuken guy was. But if they were the only answers anyone was willing to give him, than he supposed he could shut up and listen.

"Let's hear the story, Urahara-jii," Rangiku smiled a smile that clearly said Urahara would be a very miserable man for a very long time if he did not comply. "I haven't heard a good one in a long time."

"Well, since you're all just so enthusiastic," the cornered salesman finally acquiesced, "I suppose I could indulge you … just this once."

* * *

Hitsugaya blocked yet another fluid arrow with Hyourinmaru's blade, holding the hilt firmly with both hands in order to make sure he could negate the force of the blow. Breathing deeply and evenly, he eyed the man before him with growing frustration. They had come to a standstill of sorts, with neither combatant interested in taking up their earlier game again, yet neither willing to set down his weapon.

"Why are we doing this?" he asked for the third time, receiving another volley of arrows as his reply. "There's no point," he continued to press.

Finally, Ishida responded with actual words. "There is a point. I simply see no need for you to know of it."

"Like Artemis and Actaeon," Hitsugaya deadpanned, "You're using my own power against me for your petty revenge."

"An interesting analogy," the stoic man replied.

"I saw the picture in your office," the younger offered his explanation.

"I see," Ishida affirmed, as devoid of emotion as his companion. "It is quite fitting. However, this is not for revenge."

Hitsugaya paused for a moment, taking in this latest breakthrough. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and with a sigh, he sheathed his zanpakutou, much to the surprise of both Ishida and Kurosaki. "I don't know what your reason is," the boy declared, voice weary and hoarse but determined, "and I don't care. But I am getting sick and tired of all of this idiocy. I'm not running anymore."

He spread his arms out in the air and stared Ishida down.

"If you're going to shoot, take your best shot already."

For just a moment, Ishida hesitated. But just as quickly as it came, it dissipated. An unexpected smirk grew along his lips.

And he fired.

* * *

Chapter Fifteen End

* * *

That was quite possibly the worst cliffhanger I've ever written.

**Artemis and Actaeon** – Artemis was the Greek goddess of the hunt, also associated with the moon. Actaeon was a hunter who boasted he was better than her. For revenge, she turned him into a stag, and he was eaten by his own hunting dogs.


	17. The Devil's Arcade

As long as you're all too happy to see that I've finally updated to realize that I wrote half of this while I was home sick, we should all be fine. By the way, Treading Icy Water's one year anniversery is the eighteenth of this month.

I had better see celebrating...

* * *

"_I think that God in creating Man somewhat overestimated his ability.__"_

_-Oscar Wilde_

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

The Devil's Arcade

* * *

"Taichou! Taichou!"

No answer. Matsumoto Rangiku refused to keep running after him if he was just going to keep ignoring her. She came to a halt, slamming her palms against her hips and pouting at her retreating taichou's back with disdain. Honestly, her taichou could be such a pain. She'd try one more time.

"Taichou! Listen to me for once!"

Still no answer. He was so damn aggravating! She knew he'd never reply until she gave in, so she finally surrendered. She raised her hands to cup them around her mouth and yelled at the top of her lungs.

"Kurosaki Isshin, you stubborn, old mule!"

The retreating figure stopped and turned back. He looked to be in his early twenties, his tan, leathery skin course with battle. Everything about him seemed to give off the strange impression of some subtle wisdom gained through a simple epiphany or philosophy he had accepted long ago. His dark hair was long, held back in a loose ponytail, and the smallest bristles were just beginning to nestle along his jaw line. Somehow, even the sheepish smile adorning his lips added to the image. In Rangiku's opinion, it was an appearance very worthy of the Tenth Division insignia upon his long-sleeved haori. "You called, Rangiku-chan?"

The image was instantly shattered when she caught up to him and smacked him upside the head. "Idiot. Wipe that dumb grin off your face. You know it doesn't work on me."

"Rangiku-chan… That was so mean!" he burst into mock tears, shielding his bruised cranium and laying on the dramatics thicker than even Shunsui. "Oh! What happened to the quiet, compassionate little girl I met so many decades ago?"

"She got stuck with you as her taichou," Rangiku huffed, though she wasn't able to hold back her traitorous smile.

He looked aggravatingly pleased with himself as he matched her smile with his own once more. "How are things with the kid you found in Rukongai?"

Rangiku beamed. "He's so cute, Taichou! He thinks he knows everything, and he's always arguing like he's so superior. It makes him even cuter. He still won't talk to too many people, but Ukitake-taichou agreed to take him in as his new Eighth Seat! I guess everyone's been congratulating him for achieving shikai before graduating the Academy, but all he did the whole time I visited was complain about how easy it was. He really is adorable. I can't wait to introduce you!"

"Really…" he trailed off with genuine interest, but Rangiku caught the strange, faraway quality hidden in his glazed over tone and was instantly reminded of why she was here in the first place.

"How dare you distract me like that! That's just … just … _dirty_!" she whined, her pout making its comeback as her pale eyes bored accusingly into her taichou's bottomless ones. "You know why I came after you, and you still have the gall to call _me_ the mean one!?"

"Whatever could you mean?"

"You asked him, didn't you?" she accused.

Isshin frowned. She knew he didn't want to get into this argument again, but she had to know. If he had run off without telling anyone… She would _never_ forgive him. He sighed, avoiding eye contact. She knew the answer long before he opened his mouth. "Yes, I did. And he agreed with me."

"He would have agreed with someone else too!" she countered desperately, arms flying all over the place in her sub-par attempts to express her frustration. "Tell him that you changed your mind!"

"I couldn't do that, even if I wanted to. But the fact is that I _haven't_ changed my mind," he replied heavily. "Two of my seated officers are dead for no reason other than that they were shinigami. I went to Yama-jii to get permission to erase their murderer."

"_Erase?_ Taichou, this isn't just another hollow we're talking about! He's-!"

"-an angry Quincy bent on eradicating all of shinigami-kind on his own?"

"His father, the old man, he's sweet, and he's completely harmless, but this guy is-!"

"-an angry Quincy bent on eradicating all of shinigami-kind on his own?"

"Stop doing that!" Matsumoto was just about ready to rip out her hair. "This is serious!"

"I am being serious, Rangiku-chan," he chuckled, patting her on the head. "I'll be back in no time at all. But I have to do this, alright?"

There was that smile again, that cheesy grin that worked on everyone but her. She was used to false smiles and she was used to goodbyes, but - _dammit!_ – she was not going to accept either from Kurosaki Isshin. "Yeah? Well, you'd better hurry. Because until you get back, I swear I am going to be the slacker from hell, and when you see those monstrous piles of paperwork drowning the whole office, you're going to wish you'd never met that quiet, compassionate little girl all those decades ago."

"Aw, Rangiku-chaaan," he whined before planting an unexpected kiss on her forehead. A blush crept up along her cheeks. "I'd never wish that."

* * *

"Be careful what you say, Kurosaki-taichou. She'd go through with it."

Isshin looked up in surprise at the figure lurking around the corner. He smirked. "Aw, don't be jealous. Your little fukutaichou is pretty cute herself, Sousuke."

The Fifth Division taichou smiled, but it was strained. His eyes pleaded with his fellow taichou. "I'm afraid I'm inclined to agree with Rangiku, Isshin. You were against the massacre all those years ago, and I know you still wish you could have done something to prevent it. This isn't your fight. Besides," he added, his tone softening, "I'd much rather see you laughing and training with your men than slaughtering some kid who's gotten himself in over his head."

"Sousuke," Isshin sighed, drawing out the word as if it pained him. "This has nothing to do with the past. He killed my men. I can't laugh with them if they're dead, Sousuke. They won't ever laugh again."

Aizen took a step back, clearing the way. He nodded his understanding, though he still seemed reluctant. "I'll look after Rangiku while you're gone, but I couldn't let you leave without trying, could I?"

"Thank you."

"Just come back soon."

Isshin gave the man a thankful nod, his entire body seeming to relax even as he was preparing for battle. "Of course," he grinned. "Who did you think you were talking to?"

And he was gone.

"'Jus' come back soon?'" repeated a disembodied voice from directly above Aizen's head. Even the voice seemed to be smirking. "Now tha' was unnecessary."

"Yes, it was," Aizen replied levelly before removing his glasses, wiping the lenses on his haori's sleeve.

A Cheshire grin slowly turned around and disappeared into the fading afternoon sky. "Yare, yare," it sighed playfully. "An' ya didn' even let me say g'bye…."

* * *

Isshin could feel the energy before he was even completely through the gate. It was that of a Quincy, alright, and the agonizing wail that died off into nothingness was certainly a defeated hollow. The Quincy arrows really didn't cleanse the hollows, did they? The last time he had ever heard a cry as sorrowful and deranged as that one was before the massacre. His palm clenched around his zanpakutou's hilt as he stepped out into the cool air of a city at dusk.

He didn't bother to restrain his reiatsu any further than his limit already did. He wasn't here to hide.

The energy he had felt wavered momentarily before bursting into a flower of raging reiatsu. It was like a fire of ice. He would have thought it beautiful if he wasn't here to destroy it. At the very least, the Quincy's intentions were now clear. He had taken the bait and responded with equal vigor. There was no way around this. There would be one fight; then it would end.

Slowly, Kurosaki Isshin made his way toward the deadly reiatsu flower. It was situated in the middle of an abandoned intersection. Stop lights all blinking red swayed in the wind making the atmosphere much more eerie than it should have been. In the center of the flower was a teenager dressed in white; he couldn't have been older than eighteen, but he held an enormous bow with only his left hand, its purple-silver hue clashing with the golden streetlights. He looked far too young to be wielding such a weapon, but then, Isshin didn't look a day over twenty-two either.

He stopped on the corner, looking up to face the Quincy with a tense frown the likes of which very few had ever seen him display. "I take it you're the one they call Artemis."

"I didn't come up with the title, but I can't deny that it refers to me," came the cold reply from across the intersection. "'The hunter of the moon.' Ishida Ryuuken. I take it you're a friend of the deceased, here to stop me."

"No," Kurosaki replied emotionlessly, drawing his zanpakutou, "I am Kurosaki Isshin, taichou of the Tenth Division, and I'm here to kill you."

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou bolted upright, eyes wide and breathing haggard. His head was pounding like a veritable hail storm, and his shoulder was ablaze in agony. He could hear shuffling, an excited voice, but none of it mattered. It took all of his being just to keep breathing. He tasted blood on his tongue, a stinging, copper bed-of-nails on his taste buds.

"-rou! Toushirou! Toushirou-kun! Answer me!"

His head jerked to the right, and a blurry Kurosaki Isshin came into focus. The elder shinigami was crouched next to him, holding him up with a steady hand. His whole body radiated anxiety, but there was a cooler stench in the room as well. Hastily, he brought his head up to meet another blur, Ishida Ryuuken. The cavernous room they were in was white-washed. Everything echoed. He noticed with a confused clarity that he was covered in a layer of cold sweat, and his left arm refused to move.

"Toushirou-kun…?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. If felt disturbingly as if something was going to spew out if he kept it open long.

A feeling not unlike a fan blowing in his face and within his gut caught him off guard, and he realized that Hyourinmaru was wrapping his soothing scales around his reiatsu. He breathed a silent sigh of relief as the sensation took over his senses and he regained some sense of his mind. He could hear Kurosaki and Ishida talking again.

"Ryuuken!" the louder of the two whined just outside of Hitsugaya's comprehension. "You hit him too hard! He's just a kid!"

"He's probably older than I am," the Quincy replied in contempt, his icy glare eyeing with disdain the shinigami robes Kurosaki wore. "You should be thanking me for only piercing his shoulder. When you first mentioned Urahara was behind this, I was quite ready to just kill him."

And then it came to him. Everything that had happened that day. Asking Urahara to aid in gaining Matsumoto's bankai, the parent-teacher conference, and … Kurosaki Isshin. The Quincy's hospital. Urahara. That _bastard_. "Damn…" he finally managed to choke out, staring down at the floor to keep himself steady. His vision still felt as if it were rocking back and forth on a see-saw. Both men trained their eyes on him. "He already knew that my reiatsu fueled it…. Why…?"

"That wasn't your reiatsu, Toushirou-kun," Kurosaki replied seriously.

"The last arrow I fired," prompted Ishida when Hitsugaya's brows furrowed, "was of Isshin's reiatsu. Which means that any spiritual energy you come in contact with will inflame your condition. Whether the energy is yours or not, it does not matter."

Hitsugaya tried to swallow this new bit of information. This was just like that insane salesman, such a ridiculous set-up when he could have just pulled him aside for two minutes. But, if this was true, then…

He tried to stand up. He couldn't.

His shoulder screamed anew. He jerked backward, hand shooting for a wound that was no longer there. He heard more shuffling, a shout, a loud thud, and nothing else.

* * *

Isshin hastily stepped into shunpo and narrowly avoided the wrath of several Quincy arrows. He reappeared within the realm of sight directly to Ryuuken's right, but the Quincy teenager anticipated the move and dodged to the side, firing another volley of arrows. Isshin, a single bead of sweat slinking down into his eye, took a deep breath and made it out of the way once more, this time managing to catch the Quincy with an unexpected charge.

His zanpakutou skimmed the side of Ryuuken's arm, blood flowing down toward the large, silver arrow. This wasn't exactly a noteworthy injury. The two had been charging through the streets of Karakura for almost half an hour now, and both of them were getting tired. Wounds littered both of their bodies, and an ungracious, little skim along the Quincy's arm was not going to get Isshin an advantage at this point. He had already released shikai, and still the teenager was equal to him in ability.

He was just beginning to consider calling upon his bankai when he heard a familiar sound a short distance away. He hastily swung around to block Ryuuken's next barrage, but what he saw behind the Quincy made him forget all about his designs for vengeance.

Standing several meters behind Ishida Ryuuken was a five ton hollow with a mask like a starburst and a tail like Thor's own axe. Its reptilian body reminiscent of some sort of Gila monster turned slimy, black Godzilla, Isshin couldn't even begin to understand how he had not sensed it before now, let alone heard it approaching. But there it was, as clear as day. And its tail had already risen into the air, hovering over Ryuuken's head like a twisted, living guillotine.

He didn't even bother warning the Quincy. There was no time, and adrenaline was already taking over his muscles. Fight or flight. There was no way Kurosaki Isshin was running away.

He charged toward Ryuuken with all of his might, not even taking the time to comprehend the wide-eyed Quincy, shocked at what he saw as a suicidal attack, raise his bow to aim at his chest. Zigzagging would lose him time he didn't have. No sooner did two Quincy arrows appear than they were fired, but by that time Isshin was already on top of him. One arrow missed altogether while the other pierced the shinigami's ribs just as he managed to tackle the stunned Quincy out of the way.

The tail made a clean cut into his shoulder, a geyser of crimson liquid spewing in an arc across the empty street as he shakily kept it from digging any deeper with his own hands, zanpakutou long forgotten along with his former opponent.

"You're a big guy, aren't 'cha?" he chuckled under his breath, though the action set off a nasty cough.

The hollow only looked down at him as if waiting until he finally wretched the axe from his shoulder, hands nearly sliced in two but still managing to function under his endless will. "You are Kurosaki Isshin."

Isshin paused, training his eyes on the emotionless mask in surprise. This did not bode well. At all. "Yes," he finally hazarded between haggard breaths, "I am Kurosaki-taichou of the Tenth Division of the Gotei Thirteen. Who are you?"

The hollow opened its mouth as if to answer, but instead of giving its name, a beam of white hot light erupted from its throat and hit the shinigami directly in the chest.

There was no pain, Kurosaki noted with detached curiosity, as he felt his world swirling into blues and purples and blacks until finally, he was sucked in altogether.

* * *

Ishida Ryuuken was beyond stunned at this point. Whether they had been fighting beforehand or not, it shouldn't have made any difference. That a mere hollow, not even of Gillian class, could surprise and nearly overpower a shinigami taichou was simply impossible. And how had he not sensed it? It had been right behind him, damn it! This wasn't a case of carelessness; it was impossibility. Sheer impossibility.

And, worst of all, that shinigami had just saved his life.

Ryuuken was not having that.

Almost as soon as the shinigami was sent flying from the force of the beam, he had another batch of arrows ready and aimed. But without even closing its mouth from the attack, it was already storming toward the shinigami again. He tsked. He didn't care about that pathetic shinigami; he really didn't. But he couldn't stomach the thought of some low-life hollow doing away with him before he could. That was not acceptable.

That damn hollow was impossibly fast. It couldn't be normal, which meant normal tactics wouldn't work.

In a split second decision that he already regretted, he gathered reiatsu at his feet for a hasty hirenkyaku, releasing his bow back into its pentacle as he did so. In the instant it took him to meet up with the hollow before the splayed out shinigami, the ghastly creature had bent down, jaws open wide. He smirked.

The hollow clamped down, a cascade of spilled blood wreaking itself upon the paved streets for the second time that night as Ishida Ryuuken felt the teeth digging into his body. Ignoring the sweat pooling from his forehead, he lifted the pentacle once more and the bow reappeared, but this time it spanned past the width of the hollow's jaws, piercing the flesh on each side of the mouth before three more arrows were shot directly into the creature's throat and right out the back of it.

It shrieked, instantly lifting its jaws as it reeled back, claws and tail flying every direction imaginable, and disintegrated into a mess of spirit particles that should have looked much uglier than they did.

The bow disbursed once more as Ryuuken slowly turned around, bending unsteadily over the shinigami's prone form as more lost blood drained his life away. Kurosaki Isshin was awake, but he was in such a daze that he obviously had no idea what was happening. His grimace all too prominent upon his bloody lips, he managed, "This is why you … bastards deserve to die. You let other bastards … get to you before I can."

"You…" came the unfocused reply as Isshin's eyes zeroed in on Ryuuken's now crimson suit. And, suddenly, he shot up. "You! We have to get you to a hospital right away!" He was surprised at how much his own wounds hurt, much more so than they should have. He was a shinigami, after all. Right?

The hatred in the Quincy's tone was undeniable, even in his strained, halting vocals. "Like I'm going … to let you save me again, right after … I even the score."

"Perhaps I can be of some assistance, then?"

Both turned perplexedly at the sound of another voice, a playful, sing-song voice owned by a grinning blonde man waving a fan mischievously in front of his face.

"What? No takers?"

"Kisuke!"

Urahara's eyes widened at the voice, one he recognized. But no sooner had he recognized it did his grin leave his lips. "Isshin?" he managed, closing the fan as he ran toward them. He stopped when he saw his face; he was definitely the Tenth Division taichou, but…

"Isshin… Why can't I feel your reiatsu?"

* * *

A heavy pounding on the door interrupted Urahara mid-sentence just before a loud, obnoxious voice caroled, "Kiiiisukeeee! We're baaaaack! Open uuuup!"

Everyone stared at the door in awe, still lost in the story they had been listening to. Finally, Urahara smirked and called out, "C'mon in! The gang's all here! We were just telling ghost stories!"

The moment the words were out of his mouth, the door burst open, propelled by none other than Kurosaki Isshin's sandaled foot. Perhaps it was a hereditary trait. But almost more surprising than that was the fact that he was cradling a sleeping Hitsugaya-taichou, returned to his gigai, in his arms and Ishida Ryuuken was standing behind him.

All were speechless, except for Urahara, of course. "Good to see you again, old buddy!" he cheered happily, slapping Isshin on the back and moving to do the same to Ryuuken. He stopped, however, at the murderous stare that was immediately sent his way. "I take it things went well!"

"Well, he didn't die!" Isshin replied in equally happy tones, though it held an obvious sting to it.

Urahara backed off appropriately. "You can just set him on the couch."

"Taichou!" Matsumoto finally regained herself, jumping up from her chair to collect the diminutive shinigami in her arms. Isshin obliged.

"Well, Ryuuken, we'd best get our kin and get going, ne? Those ghost stories must've been pretty amazing, Kisuke. They're all white as sheets."

"I think that's because of something else…" Renji hazarded.

"Ah, I see. Well, if my little Ichigo has any questions like _that_, he can ask them when we get home. As his father, I think it would be my duty to give him _that_ sort of talk mano a mano."

"I still don't think you get it…"

But even as Ichigo and Uryuu were ushered off, Uryuu couldn't help but allow for one last glance back at the sleeping taichou, Rangiku covering him up with a blanket, before fully diverting his attention to his father. He looked angry, impatient, and frustrated, his cold eyes planted on Kurosaki's smiling face. Uryuu frowned.

Maybe… That conversation with his grandfather… His father's hidden motives, motives Uryuu couldn't have understood back then… Maybe…

His reason for disregarding his Quincy heritage… His reason for ordering Uryuu to never work with shinigami again…

Was because the more one interacted with them, the deeper one was spun into their web, the more apparent it became. They were no different. The Quincy, living, breathing humans, and the shinigami, inheritors of the afterlife. They were no different.

And that made all the difference.

* * *

Chapter Sixteen End

* * *

**Hirenkyaku** - the Quincy equivilant to shunpo or sonido 


	18. Free Fall

I still don't know why I'm so fond of getting Hitsugaya into shouting matches. I guess it comes with the whole being so fond of mentally torturing him thing.

* * *

"_Every mile is two in winter."_

_-George Herbert_

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

Free Fall

* * *

Hitsugaya didn't even bother trying to verify his surroundings this time. He didn't have to feel, he didn't have to smell, he didn't have to taste the nothingness around him to know that it was there. Even Hyourinmaru's absence felt almost like a simple formality. He was back. And, naturally, it wouldn't be long before he heard that voice again.

Perhaps his new apathy sprung from what he had learned from Kurosaki and Ishida. His arriving here just clarified what he already knew, what he'd known from the moment he'd heard those words come out of Ishida Ryuuken's mouth. Any reiatsu, no matter the owner, would inflame his symptoms. That could only mean one thing.

Finally, the familiar energy signature he'd been waiting for began to creep up from the edges of his consciousness. He watched the nonexistent horizon for some time before the white robes came into view, and that deranged grin was aimed at him once more. Hitsugaya didn't say anything. He only stood and waited until the lanky former taichou was nearly on top of him. Ichimaru Gin said nothing either. Not at first. The two stared at each other in knowing silence, Ichimaru's grin glinting with the reflected light of a nonexistent sun. This whole place was nonexistent; Hyourinmaru was nonexistent. And he had finally received the message that Ichimaru had been trying to give him all along.

The man slowly, ever so slowly, leaned down before grasping the younger shinigami's chin and forcing his head to the side. There was no resistance, and the grin only widened as Ichimaru whispered wickedly into an exposed ear.

"I win, little taichou."

Hitsugaya Toushirou was nonexistent.

* * *

It was hot. Hot and humid. And _sticky_.

Hitsugaya Toushirou slowly, cautiously, opened his eyes and stared right up into someone's uvula. A moment of tense, dreading silence before heated sushi breath coursed into his face. That did _not_ just happen.

"If you don't get off of me this instant, I will kill you."

"Ah!" chirped a familiar, disturbingly happy voice. "So the little dragon wakes up from his beauty sleep."

"Urahara," he snarled as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Now?" The salesman cocked his head innocently, though the fan he had opened up to hide his smile only made him look more suspicious. "Why, I'm thawing you out, of course. You don't release all your reiatsu like that and get out of it scotch free. I thought I'd die of frostbite for sure. You really must learn better control. This sort of behavior … and from a taichou, no less… Honestly, now."

Hitsugaya glared, his reiatsu spiking dangerously. Urahara knew better than anyone that he no longer had control. He was the bastard who'd been keeping track all of this time. That had been the deal. And it was then that he actually comprehended what the blonde shopkeeper had said. He had released his reiatsu … in his sleep? He could hear the dragon roaring in the back of his mind, was suddenly aware of the cold sweat drenching his body and the small icicles lining the ceiling that had yet to melt. Urahara was looking rather wet himself.

Had he honestly…? Then, what about the others? No. Not yet. He didn't want-

He didn't get any farther before he felt the burning bile rising from his throat, and Urahara, always prepared, produced a bucket from the floor beside the couch. As Hitsugaya was heaving whatever meal he had happened to eat last, the elder man continued to watch as casually as ever. The younger shinigami responded by mentally cursing the blonde's ancestors for the next couple of millenniums.

"Done yet?" Urahara questioned when the convulsions began to quiet down again. Hitsugaya didn't respond. He wiped his mouth on his sleeves (how'd he get back in his gigai?), and stared down at his arm with a vacant expression. There was blood mixed in with the vomit. Only Urahara could succeed in making things this much worse in such a short amount of time. "Ah," the sly shopkeeper answered himself. "Don't be angry now. You have no rights to complain, remember?"

Hitsugaya still refused to respond. "Look," the former shinigami amended, "everybody's out, alright? Ichigo and pals are at school, and Rangiku's out on a job. She's got plenty of cash with her, so we won't be seeing her again until late. Yoruichi even took the kids out to some park or other. No one felt you going crazy thanks to a couple of barriers I've been putting up lately. And the only evidence that anything happened is already melting away. So." He leaned in, and Hitsugaya very nearly flinched at the close proximity. "What did he say this time?"

Carefully, Hitsugaya stumbled off of the couch. His shoulder still ached, though it was tolerable. His head, however, was a different story. Urahara watched him as he grabbed the first jacket he found, disregarding its rather large size completely. It didn't seem like the kid was going to be saying much. Oh, well. It wasn't his problem anymore, was it?

"Oi, Hitsugaya. Catch."

Hitsugaya barely saw something soaring through the air right at his face before he reached up and caught it. It looked like … a dog collar. He glared at it for a moment before slowly turning his head back to Urahara. It was a very, very scary expression. Urahara found it absolutely adorable.

"No, it's not for a dog, Hitsugaya-kun," the other man wagged his finger playfully at him. "It's for you. It should work in a similar way as Zaraki's eye patch, but it's slightly more complicated. It will eat away most of your reiatsu before it can affect your symptoms, but it won't negate all of it, especially not if it isn't your own. A dog collar is the best shape because it wraps around your neck and accumulates your energy in the tag, ne?" he proudly pointed out the genius of his own design. But the boasting was short lived.

"You know what the outcome of that last, little test means, don't you? If any reiatsu you come in contact with can affect you and the symptoms continue to progress in the way that they have, then you have a zero per cent chance of surviving past _next week_. If you can avoid too much close contact with others' reiatsu, then that collar should be able to carry you over for another two weeks or so, three at best. This is as close to a cure as I can give you with the situation the way that it is. If anyone tried to heal you, their reiatsu would only make things worse."

"I know." Oh. So he was talking now, was he? "Please. Don't tell them. Matsumoto … and Kurosaki. I don't want them to know yet."

"They'll find out eventually," the older man sighed.

Hitsugaya dutifully clasped the collar around his neck. Urahara had to admit, he was able to pull off the look surprisingly well. "Eventually, yes. But not now. Please."

Urahara Kisuke couldn't believe what he was hearing. The Hitsugaya Toushirou, infamously cold taichou of the Tenth Division of the Gotei Thirteen and child genius, had just used the word 'please' twice. And both were addressed to him, of all people. He tapped his fan against his chin as if he was thinking about it. But really, he would have just been bullying the kid if he didn't. Urahara was usually fine with bullying; it was quite thrilling actually, but not this kind. Hitsugaya, even after all of his effort, had just been informed that his death sentence had been signed the moment that scorpion arrancar had made her move. "Alright then. This officially ends our first deal. I've done all I can for you. You've got two weeks to say your good-byes. And now we can focus on that other little deal we made."

Hitsugaya finally turned back to face the man. "Matsumoto's bankai training…"

"…will begin tomorrow night. Isn't that swell?"

The self-satisfying grin encompassing Urahara's features made the young shinigami want to gag, but he only nodded before turning back around. "I'm going on a walk."

"That isn't the smartest thing to be doing, is it? Going out alone in your condition?"

"No, it isn't."

And the young taichou slammed the door behind him.

Urahara didn't move for some time, watching several of the smaller icicles crash harmlessly to the floor around the doorway. It didn't really matter; the room was already soaking wet. He was just glad he didn't keep anything valuable in here. It was a guest room, after all. Why waste the good stuff on the guests?

"Hnn," he sighed lightly. It seemed even he couldn't distract himself with selfish nonsense much longer. Hitsugaya's predicament meant a lot more for the rest of the world than anyone seemed to realize. Aizen was delaying, that was a fact. And that meant that he was up to something.

When Aizen was up to something, bad things started happening.

Suddenly, he was feeling rather anxious for Matsumoto to return with that package.

* * *

Kurosaki Karin was _not_ happy.

It had been a while since Ichi-nii had run off without her and disappeared, and it had been a while since he returned, safe and sound save for a couple of cuts and bruises. So why was she not happy? Because no one was willing to tell her what had happened, that was why. Or what was happening right now, by the looks of things. Even that Gankooyaji of hers was acting weird. He'd sneak out, just like Ichi-nii, and he actually stayed out longer sometimes. She didn't really mind the privacy; it only meant more of Yuzu's cooking all to herself. It was just that … it wasn't like him. It wasn't like him at all.

And it wasn't like Ichi-nii either. Ever since he'd started running around with those weird black clothes on, fighting those creepy hollow monsters, he hadn't been quite the same. He was a whole lot more responsible at least. And he was away all of the time. He didn't come home until late, he brought home weird girls (not that Rukia was a bad person), and he ran off whenever the hell he felt like it! And, most aggravating of all, he never did tell her why. What? Did he think she wouldn't understand? Or worse, did he think she couldn't handle it?

Anything would have been better than seeing those two morons pretend that everything was normal. They were both terrible actors. Especially Ichi-nii.

She wanted to throw every single sharp object in the house right at him just to see which ones hit and which ones didn't. The more that hit, the better she'd feel. But she couldn't do that. He wouldn't stay still long enough. So she had to content herself with ditching school for now. It was just for one day anyway. She had a near perfect attendance record otherwise. Well, except for that one day with the parakeet kid. Ichi-nii had been involved in this weirdness even back then, she could tell. And his friends too. That big guy … who was really strong.

So maybe Ichi-nii wasn't the only one on her hit list then. She'd have to actually write out a list at this rate. Like she was going to do that. She didn't have a pencil with her, or paper for that matter. All she wanted to do was walk around, maybe practice some soccer for a bit, and forget all about Ichi-nii's stupidity. He sooo caught it from dad, like one of those hereditary diseases.

And it was with this lovely thought that she turned the corner and saw the very last thing she needed to see right now. A giant, winged, bat-looking monstrosity with a white mask the size of her whole body flapped its wings twice as it soared before perching atop a nearby billboard. It wasn't of the sort that she usually messed around with. She could tell by its feel … and by the pounding headache she was getting. And now it was looking right at her. She balled her fists together, the soccer ball she had brought now only centimeters from the tip of her sneaker. Would she be able to strike it down on her own? She never got to find out.

As soon as she was ready to fire, she heard a bloodcurdling scream, and the hollow's head separated from its body, disintegrating even as it fell to the ground. As the body slowly began to dissipate into its crystalline spirit particles, a figure came into view behind it. Karin balked.

The figure couldn't have been much older than her, despite that white hair. She could tell that much even from watching him up on the billboard. Not only that, but he was wearing the same weird clothes as Ichi-nii. And that weapon! Sirens went off in the back of her mind. This was her chance! If she could catch that shrimp, maybe he could tell her what was going on! He had to know Ichi-nii, right? And he had to have an idea of what he was involved in, especially since he was up there jumping around the same way that Ichi-nii did too.

She clenched her fists, staring up at the billboard as if a single blink would mean the end of the world. A bead of sweat glided down the side of her face as she aimed. She pulled back her foot, sticking out her tongue in concentration, and let it fly. Her foot contacted the soccer ball with incredible force. The ball soared into the air at breakneck speeds, headed directly toward her target. She was going to hit him! She was really going to-

He caught it.

Karin's eyes widened in awe. The ball was still spinning against the flesh of his hand, the friction causing smoke to rise. Finally, it settled in his palm, and he grasped it properly so that he could get a better look at it. His expression was clearly one of contempt as he turned his head right toward her, sharp teal eyes locking on to her own.

"Gah!" She had to get out of here. That kid, whoever he was, was even angrier than _her_. But could she really run at a time like this? This was the first real link she'd found to her idiot brother's escapades. Could she afford to lose it over something so trivial as instant death? Once again, she was left with no say in the matter.

"This is yours, I take it."

Karin jumped back. When had he come down from the billboard? And she hadn't heard a thing either! But now that he was close, she could feel that icy aura about him. It was definitely the same as her brother's. That neutral feeling of a normal spirit but with the headache inducing power of those hollows. She smiled awkwardly, certain that she looked more like a twitchy murderer than a girl out for a walk. "Er … sorry about that."

"No you're not."

"Ah…" she trailed off, pulling her arm up to rub the back of her neck. "You saw that?"

The kid frowned at the ball for a moment more before he handed it over. "You can see me."

Well, he was certainly talkative, she mused dryly, but she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He wasn't raging around trying to kill her; in fact, he looked almost sulky if she was going to be honest with herself. This was her chance. She took the soccer ball back with a nod of acknowledgment. So he really was dead, after all, if he was saying something like that. "Uh … yeah. Clear as day."

His reaction to this was not what she'd been expecting. As soon as she'd finished, the kid's shoulders slumped and any sort of depressing thoughts he'd had instantly made way for annoyance. "That idiotic, reckless, ignorant dolt!" he grunted, pinching the bridge of his nose in his frustration. "When will he ever learn how to control that monster reiatsu? That moron's going to make this whole city spiritually aware if he doesn't get his act together!"

For just a second, Karin was didn't know what to think. Then it hit her. "_That idiotic, reckless, ignorant dolt!"_ She dropped the soccer ball without another thought and grabbed his shoulders, all hesitation vanishing instantly. "You know Ichi-nii!"

* * *

Hitsugaya was dumbfounded. Who the hell was this brat?! He didn't have time to deal with this right now. But… "I-Ichi-nii…?"

He pulled himself out of her grip, brushing off his uniform as she watched him with that half-worried, half-angry scowl. It matched Kurosaki's to the letter. So this was Kurosaki Ichigo's sister, another relative of the substitute shinigami. Oh, yeah. This was just what he needed. Another Kurosaki Isshin.

"I wish I _didn't_ know him," he grumbled on his breath.

"Then you definitely know him."

Hitsugaya frowned at this answer. What was she trying to get at? Well, none of that mattered, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to waste any time on some girl ditching school, even if she was Kurosaki's sister. But just as he turned around to leave, she ran in front of him again, arms spread out as if she actually thought that she could stop him.

"Wait! If you know him, then you know what he's up to, right?"

"What makes you think that?" he snorted. He didn't want anything to do with that orange haired idiot right now, thank you very much.

"You just beat that monster, right?" she continued, pleading for answers while somehow still managing to give out orders at the same time. "That's what Ichi-nii does all the time, I know it! Rukia too! If you're here, then you must know what's going on! That sorry excuse for a brother won't tell me anything, so if you know something, then spit it out already! I'm sick and tired of everyone pretending everything's normal around here!"

"Of course no one would tell you anything if that's how you ask," he countered frustratedly. "And how could you have possibly come to the conclusion that a complete stranger would tell you anything no matter how you ask? Especially after you tried to knock me off of a billboard!"

"Well, how else was I supposed to get your attention?! What, was I supposed to shout at you until you ran away?" she instantly retorted. "I had to ask you! You're the same as him! I can feel it! So whatever he's all worked up about, you're a part of it too, aren't you?!"

"I have more important things to think about than how that idiot chooses to spend his free time." He was more than ready to leave for good this time. He leapt up from the ground to land on a brick wall lining the sidewalk, out of the girl's reach.

"Fine then! Go ahead and run off! I'm sorry I kept you from your pathetic brooding, you damn brat!"

Twitch.

"What was that?"

The girl immediately seized her chance. "I said you should just go back to your stupid, sucky afterlife, you little punk!"

"You really want to know what Kurosaki is up to?" he growled through clenched teeth as he finally turned back around to face her. If looks could kill, she would have been struck down in an instant. But unfortunately for Hitsugaya, looks couldn't kill. So his deadly glare was met only with an equally frustrated expression of her own.

"Of course!" she huffed, hands placed defiantly on her hips as she glared up at him. "And don't you dare try saying that I wouldn't be able to handle it!"

That was the last thing he was thinking of telling her. Anyone who could argue with him could handle most anything. But what he was thinking of telling her was quite possibly worse. He didn't care. He was in no mood to deal with this crap. He hadn't left Urahara's so that he could run into even more irritating people. He'd left so that he could get away from all of this nonsense. These people, these places… He couldn't take it anymore. He wouldn't take it anymore.

He jumped down from the wall to land squarely in front of her, eyes locked onto hers one last time. "That pathetic defect is training every spare second he has so that he can do everything in his power to save everyone everywhere _again_ because he's too stubborn to face the fact that not everyone can be saved! Not now. And not in the coming war."

"Is he trying to save _you_?"

Hitsugaya's eyes widened. That was it. That was the final straw. Insults didn't matter; honor didn't matter. And he sure as hell wasn't going to stick around for more of this. Without another word, he left. He didn't care where to. He just had to leave.

"Oi, oi! Where are you going?! Hey!" He didn't stop, and she must have realized that he wasn't going to. "Thursday!" she shouted. "Thursday at four o'clock by the big sign at Karakura Park! You had better be there, you asshole!"

Her words hardly registered as he leapt out of sight and headed back toward his gigai across town. He didn't dare stop again on the way in case someone else happened to see him. But not two seconds after he had returned to his solid body did he feel those two familiar, bulbous monstrosities settle themselves much too comfortably on top of his head. He tried to look up. Bad idea.

"Taichou! It really is you! You're awake!" squealed none other than Matsumoto Rangiku's voice from somewhere above the mounds of flesh. "I thought for sure you'd be out for another couple of hours or I would have gone back sooner! But isn't this great? You found me instead! While we're here, why don't I treat you to some ice cream, hm? And don't try to wriggle your way out of it either! Adults can eat ice cream too, you know."

It took a while for her to realize that her taichou wasn't talking back. "Hmmm? Taichou? Is everything alright down there?"

Hitsugaya hastily pulled away, only just overcoming the shock. "I-I'm fine," he stammered.

She reached out her hand to feel his forehead, but he dodged out of the way. "Really? Are you sure? You-"

"Of course not," he grunted, folding his arms across his chest_. Oh, please don't make things worse. Please don't make things worse._ He couldn't let her know. Not yet. It was more of a shock then he was willing to admit, seeing her here like this, acting just like she always did, trying to get him to be as lazy as her so that he couldn't yell at her for it. But to pretend that nothing had happened... It was much harder than he had thought it would be. "Honestly. What's fine about this situation? I'm stuck on Earth and surrounded by idiots."

That was right. Urahara Kisuke, Kurosaki Isshin, Kurosaki Ichigo, Matsumoto Rangiku. They were all idiots. He was surrounded by idiots trying to save him. How could he tell idiots like that that there was nothing left to save?

"But … some ice cream … might help a little."

Matsumoto beamed all the way to the ice cream parlor.

* * *

Chapter Seventeen End

* * *

**Gankooyaji** – stubborn or obstinate father, pig-headed old man, Kurosaki Isshin


	19. Dodging the Depths

Yes, I'm alive. School's out, so please accept this gift, and I shall look forward to reading your reviews while I'm sitting in the car for six hours, driving through the desert.

Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me and my horribly slow update pace. Hopefully, now that I've graduated, I'll be able to update my stories more frequently. But I guess that depends on what my college schedule says.

* * *

"_In these matters the only certainty is that nothing is certain."_

_Pliny the Elder_

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

Dodging the Depths

* * *

Urahara was once again alone in his workshop, grinning from ear to ear. This time, however, it wasn't because of any invention he'd created or any thoughts of testing such a device on one of his many guests. He was grinning in anticipation. Matsumoto's reiatsu had just strolled into the shop, and he was more than ready to open up the precious package he had sent her to retrieve.

The door opened, the woman trotted down the stares, and he reached out his hand. Then she promptly took a seat, glaring him down from across his work desk. There was nothing in his hand. He looked inquisitively at his still outstretched arm before turning his head to face his companion. The small box was set neatly in her lap, just out of his reach. An amusing sensation of déjà vu overcame him as he slowly leaned back in his own seat, propping his arms against the back of the chair.

Rangiku's luscious lips were set in a full pout, her ash gray eyes locked on him in utter determination. He smirked.

Aw. She was so cute when she was trying to be serious. "Well? Did you have fun?" he intoned brightly.

"I met Taichou today," she replied, quite the opposite to Urahara's sunny demeanor. "He let me take him out for ice cream."

"Was it any good? You should have brought some back for me," came the return whine.

Rangiku dutifully ignored him. "What did you do to him this time?"

"Whatever could you mean?"

"I'm not stupid!" she growled, her hands grasping the box in her lap, nails just digging into the crudely wrapped edges. "Isshin comes charging in with the very Quincy he was sent to kill twenty years ago, carrying Taichou around like some … some corpse! And then when he's okay, the first thing Taichou does is run into me without even realizing it's me and agrees to eating ice cream! Ice cream! With _gummy bears_ on top! I know you know about everything that's been happening! You're behind most of it! You don't even try to hide it! So what did you do to him?"

"I've already told you, Rangiku-chan," Urahara sighed. "I've done nothing but uphold my end of the bargain. Now that everything's been settled, you won't need to worry about me messing with your precious taichou any longer."

Matsumoto paused, her shoulders tensing. "What do you mean everything's been settled?"

"We've completed our deal, Rangiku-chan. Now there's only one thing left I promised to do for him."

"And what would that be?" she trailed suspiciously. He hadn't really answered her first question, but she knew that if she hadn't gotten an answer out of him yet, she wouldn't be getting it at all. She'd have to ask Hitsugaya himself what was wrong. It wasn't something she looked forward to.

Why wasn't simple loyalty ever enough? Why did she always have to worry so much about him as her taichou stubbornly continued to walk around pretending that everything was okay?

"Isn't that obvious?" the man chirped, enjoying the shift in control of the conversation. "Tonight you start work on mastering your bankai."

The impact of this statement was sufficient enough to distract her from his greedy hands, and so while her eyes widened in comprehension, he snagged the box and sat back down. Unfortunately, she was too far gone to even complain about his smugness, and that ruined his fun. He watched her eyes glaze over and let out a sigh. Geez. He hadn't expected her to overreact this much. She'd been the one to ask for it, after all. Why was she so surprised? Oh, well. He knew ways of making people talk (and had invented several new ones throughout the years as well). He'd gotten his package. Now it was time to indulge.

And so, with Matsumoto still sitting right across from him, he opened the small box and shamelessly produced a very inappropriate, very showy magazine.

For several seconds, time seemed to have halted. Then Rangiku burst forward, launching herself over the desk to snatch the magazine out of Urahara's hand. His knowing smirk reached all new levels of self-satisfaction. "This is what you've had me carting around all this time? Dirty magazines?!" she shouted in disbelief, waving the rolled up piece of literature inches in front of the salesman's nose. "This is what's supposed to help Taichou!?"

"My dear, sweet Rangiku. Have a little faith, ne?" he chided lightly, stopping the wild movements of the magazine with his pointer and middle fingers. "This is merely the icing on the cake. A little joke between friends. Understand?"

"Not in the least."

Pulling the magazine out of her grip with the aforementioned fingers, he flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for and held it out so that she could see. On the page, in bold, familiar handwriting, were the words, "Page 24, 4:00PM."

She stared at the message blankly for a moment before daring to ask, "How long until four o'clock?"

"Exactly fifteen seconds," the man grinned.

With that, he turned to the specified page, and the moment his obnoxious cuckoo clock struck three, a hell butterfly fluttered out from the center of the spread. It floated daintily in place for the remainder of the cuckoo's three chimes, but the moment they ceased it landed atop Urahara's hand. One second of silence, two seconds, three seconds, four…

Then: "Oi! Kiiisssuukkeee!! You there?!"

Rangiku would have recognized that inebriated voice from anywhere. Her gray eyes widened in utter disbelief. Urahara Kisuke had been talking to these people all along, and he'd never told her, they'd never come. What the hell was that bastard doing?! In an instant, she'd pushed Urahara out of the way so that she could yell into the hell butterfly.

"Kyouraku-taichou! Kyouraku-taichou! Don't believe anything he says! You have to tell Yamamoto-soutaichou! It's not Hitsugaya-taichou's fault! He's not a traitor! He was attacked and couldn't stay in Seireitei or he'd die! Even Yamamoto-soutaichou would have to agree Taichou's worth more alive than dead! Just send Unohana-taichou to Karakura, and this whole mess will be cleared up in no time! Please!"

"Rangiku-chan?" prompted another voice, this one not nearly as loud or obnoxious as its counterpart. "What are you doing here?"

"Ukitake-taichou! Please, just tell them!" She whirled around, eyes practically flaming as they settled on the widely grinning be-hatted salesman. Not just one shinigami taichou, but two?! "Have you been in contact with Seireitei this whole time?!"

"Ran-chan," returned Kyouraku-taichou's voice. "Calm down, sweetheart. Just listen a bit, and we'll-"

"What did you call me?!" She had the frantic butterfly in hand, more than ready to chuck it right to the ground.

"Rangiku! Kisuke _isn't_ in contact with the Seireitei!"

When she heard Ukitake's frantic interruption, Matsumoto fell back into Urahara's seat. Kisuke removed his hat, dusting it absently as he stood straight, plucking the hell butterfly from the young woman's palm.

Ukitake's voice continued after a moment. His tone was strained, obviously not happy about what he had to say. "Rangiku-chan, what we're doing right now is illegal by Seireitei law. The only way a shinigami can speak with an exile is with both Yamamoto-soutaichou's permission and attendance, but if we ask for his consent, he will know Hitsugaya-kun's location and will see no need to hear Kisuke out at all. The only reason we haven't sent men to retrieve him as of yet is because _you_ haven't reported sighting him. Do you understand? As soon as he's learned Hitsugaya-kun's location, he'll have no choice but to force Hitsugaya-kun to return to Seireitei for questioning. And you as well."

"He can't go back to Seireitei," she replied weakly.

"Exactly," Urahara pouted. "Which is why he's still here, ne? Don't worry so much. I'm not _that_ untrustworthy."

A round of hearty chuckling followed this statement as Kyouraku made a gulping sound that was suspiciously similar to the sound of guzzling sake. "We talked to Retsu-san about all of it just a few days ago. She's ready to take him in the moment you need her." Rangiku could practically see the large smile crawling across the man's wet lips. "But Juushirou here decided against talkin' with grumpy pants Byakuya 'cause he didn't want to drag the poor guy into another fiasco after he went and helped Renji and his little sister get out of Seireitei and all."

"I'm sorry, Rangiku," Ukitake sighed. "I wish we could do more, but in the midst of preparation for war, there's so little time to get anything done at all. And now all of Soul Society is on edge since Aizen sent his so-called messenger."

Rangiku sat up, leaning in. She was beginning to wonder just how many more surprises she could take. There had to be a limit at some point. "Aizen … sent a messenger?"

Urahara made a distinct clicking sound with his tongue, shaking his head as he did so. "I should have known. He's been delaying, after all. Who did he send, and what did he have to say to our precious Genryuusai?"

"So far all he's done is propose … an exchange. Yamamoto-soutaichou hasn't given his reply as of yet, but…" Ukitake let loose a heavy sigh. "His messenger is an arrancar of no importance. Aizen isn't stupid enough to send in someone we could use. He was reduced to his knees as soon as Yamamoto-soutaichou released his reiatsu. But the message wasn't quite as easy to ignore."

"Just spit it out, Juushirou. All this suspense is bad for the sake," Shunsui scolded lightly. "The messenger came to say that Aizen heard about what happened and that if we handed over little Toushirou-kun, he'd be willing to let Seireitei decide the battlefield first before tryin' to run off to Karakura to suck up all the souls he's been lustin' after."

"That's impossible! You just said-"

"Now, now, sit tight," Urahara held Rangiku's shoulder and pushed her back into his chair. His usual mischievous grin had disappeared, replaced with an agitated frown. He had been expecting something like this. He just hadn't been expecting … this. This was very, very bad for his little, white crowned ward. "Aizen doesn't need to make any deals with Seireitei to get his hands on Hitsugaya-kun. He knows exactly where the kid is, and he knows that Yamamoto doesn't. It's a ruse to make himself appear ignorant and Hitsugaya appear guilty. A stalling technique, perhaps, or even just another way to mess with our heads."

"So he's not interested in Hitsugaya-kun then?" Ukitake intoned cautiously. "Didn't you inform us that it was through his means that…?"

Rangiku frowned but said nothing. Urahara still looked rather grim. "Oh, he's interested, all right. If he wasn't, he would have simply left it to its own devices. Instead he's needlessly prodding the flames." No, Urahara frowned. Aizen never did anything needlessly. "Let them hold their negotiations for now. Aizen isn't stupid, but neither is Yamamoto; if he was, he wouldn't be soutaichou."

"Well, we knew that, but it's surprising to hear it coming from you, Kisuke," Kyouraku-taichou intoned dryly.

"I don't have time to deal with old geezers or fake promises," he waved away the man's comment. "I don't need any more annoyances than I already have. Hitsugaya-kun is bother enough on his own. Honestly, you shinigami and your false accusations."

"Then we'll leave him in your capable hands," Ukitake replied sincerely. "Thank you, Kisuke."

"Not as if we have much choice," Kyouraku-taichou concluded.

With that, the hell butterfly dissolved.

* * *

Hitsugaya Toushirou trudged grudgingly through the hallway of Urahara's house, having arrived with Matsumoto but been unwilling to talk to the knowing blonde again so soon. Instead, he had opted to head down to the underground facility. He could feel Kurosaki and Kuchiki's flaring reiatsu long before he saw them, and he didn't want to know what had started this particular fight any more than he wanted to know what had started all of the others.

He just wanted to see who had won.

Ah, Kuchiki then.

He stood there silently for a moment as the two continued on with their bout. Well, he wasn't sure it could even be considered that much anymore. Rukia was situated atop Kurosaki's back, the redhead's stomach being pinned to the ground, as she grappled with one of his legs, pulling it back much farther than it would ever be able to go through natural means. He was screaming bloody murder while she goaded him in triumph, something about saying 'uncle' and answering questions with actual answers.

"Ahem," he finally coughed into his palm, and the two violent teenagers paused their rampage in surprise.

"Hitsugaya-taichou!" Kuchiki hastily caught herself, jumping off of Kurosaki to offer the former taichou a small, respectful bow. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't…"

The crumpled heap that had been beneath her pulled himself up into a sitting position, glad to be free. "Thanks, Toushirou! You seriously saved my-"

"Quiet, you!" Rukia asserted with a swift kick in between Kurosaki's legs. Even Hitsugaya couldn't hold back a small wince as the redheaded teen fell back again.

But if they hadn't noticed him, then that meant that Urahara's collar was working. It was disbursing his reiatsu and therefore making him less of a giant, red target. That was progress at least. Although the feeling of the substitute's reiatsu, even though it was fairly well controlled, didn't make things any easier. That was one detail he didn't plan on leaking to any of them. If they realized that it was their reiatsu as well as his that had contributed to his two months being cut clean in half…

He didn't want to think about it.

Instead he focused on Kuchiki Rukia's questioning stare. She'd gone from thrashing Kurosaki, to stiff politeness, to space cadet in the span of a minute. "…Yes?" he hazarded.

"Ah … er … Hitsugaya-taichou," she began hesitantly, but when she turned and saw Kurosaki still twitching on the floor, she whirled back around, determined. "I know something's wrong, Hitsugaya-taichou. And Renji does too. You don't have to hide it from us. We know you didn't leave Seireitei under orders, but so what? You helped _us _leave against orders. So, please. We can't repay our debt to you unless you tell us how we can help."

Hitsugaya slowly, deliberately, turned to face Kurosaki, his hand inching toward his zanpakutou. "I didn't tell her anything!" the teenager growled, his voice hoarse. "She had me in a friggin' headlock, and I didn't tell her anything! So don't go pinning this on me!" But then he suddenly turned to Rukia, seeming to forget about the pain in his nether regions as he waved a hand to halt the conversation.

"Wait a second. Time out. Did you just say he helped you and Renji leave Soul Society? I thought you said Byakuya did it!"

"Well, yes," Rukia replied, waiting to see if Hitsugaya had anything to say on the matter. When he remained silent, she finished, "Nii-sama was the one who got us back to Karakura, but Hitsugaya-taichou … helped."

Now Kurosaki was staring at him too. Just great. "Uh, thanks, I guess," the substitute shinigami replied awkwardly. "I thought you, like, never broke the rules."

In response, he received a frigid glare that spoke clearer than any words ever could. _I'm here, aren't I? _He was all for keeping order, but he wasn't Kuchiki-taichou, and even that man had gone against Seireitei's laws a fair few times recently. "I didn't do anything at all. I doubt anyone would have tried to stop you anyway," he huffed.

Rukia just smiled.

* * *

She couldn't believe it.

After all of the time she'd spend in Karakura, after everything she'd seen, she was stuck back here in Seireitei while Ichigo moped around in the living realm. Their plea to save Orihime having been denied, the shinigami stationed in Karakura had had no choice but to return, their every move scrutinized by Zaraki-taichou and her Nii-sama. And now she was stuck, having no other way to vent her frustrations than going through her motions with her zanpakutou again and again, imagining the faces of the Espada on the other end of her blade.

"Rukia…"

The shinigami whirled around at the familiar voice, blinking in surprise at Renji's face hovering anxiously outside the door of the empty Thirteenth Division dojo. Her eyes widened when she saw who was with him.

"Come," beckoned Kuchiki Byakuya.

She didn't hesitate. The three of them walked for some distance before stopping. Rukia frowned. They were in an open area, barren of plant life or buildings. She recognized it as the Tenth Division training grounds. Why were they here? She turned her inquisitive gaze to Renji, but he looked just as perplexed as she did.

Until Nii-sama offered them two cloaks and a hell butterfly. Rukia's eyes widened in comprehension. Nii-sama … was letting them go back? She looked up at him, his apathetic features revealing nothing, and she smiled. "Thank you, Nii-sama," she whispered.

"Hi-Hitsugaya-taichou!" came a surprised gasp from her left.

She turned to see Renji staring at the approaching Tenth Division taichou and nearly cringed. They'd just waltzed right into the Tenth Division training grounds! Of course, Hitsugaya-taichou would have noticed! What sort of excuse could they possibly come up with for that? She was about to ask her brother himself, but froze when she saw him.

He was looking directly at Hitsugaya-taichou as if he was just waiting for him to approach. The closer the small taichou came, the more butterflies she could feel running circles around her stomach, but those little butterflies quickly became angry wasps when the boy withdrew his zanpakutou. Why would he do that before he even interrogated them? They hadn't even done anything wrong yet?! Hitsugaya-taichou had been there in Karakura too. How could he just keep walking toward them so calmly, holding that blade in his hand? His reiatsu was bursting to the brim, and he hadn't even called on his shikai. What was he playing at? He was right in front of them by now.

"Hitsugaya-taichou."

"Kuchiki-taichou."

The two nodded politely to each other, and Hitsugaya walked right past them. Rukia and Renji nearly collapsed from the release of tension. They both whirled around just in time to see the young taichou stop walking several meters away from them and release his shikai. The energy produced from the summon filled the air with dense, frigid power, but though Rukia and Renji were both stunned, her Nii-sama remained unaffected.

Taking the boy's release as a cue, he muttered a few words under his breath. The hell butterfly obediently opened a gateway to the living realm. He turned to the two shinigami matter-of-factly. "Urahara Kisuke will be waiting for you," he said simply. Rukia wanted nothing more than to hug him, but she held herself back, instead turning to Hitsugaya.

His intense reiatsu completely masked both theirs and the gateway's energy. No one would realize their reiatsu had left Seireitei until Hitsugaya-taichou resealed Hyourinmaru. "W-Why…?" she was just able to hear Renji stutter.

The white crowned taichou didn't waver, didn't even turn around. "If you think you're the only ones who know Inoue is innocent, then you're stupider than I give you credit for."

Rukia didn't bother to argue. She nodded to her brother, wrapping the cloak around her before grabbing Renji's arm and leaping through the opening.

They had no time to waste.

* * *

"There isn't any sort of debt that needs to be repaid, so don't worry about it," Hitsugaya asserted for the umpteenth time.

This time's results were no better than any of the others. "I don't care," Rukia grunted. "I want to help anyway. All of us do. You're not really a taichou anymore, right? You can't push us away by pulling rank."

"Rukia, let it be. The brat doesn't want any help," Kurosaki grumbled from his spot behind Kuchiki. The two had been following him around relentlessly. He'd tried running away, fighting back, even hiding, but they always caught up to him. It was driving him mad. First that annoying girl, and now this?

"Not _brat_," the ex-taichou seethed. "Hitsugaya-taichou!"

"Well, you're sure acting like a brat right now. I'm not going to tell her what's going on because I promised I wouldn't, but if she already knows something's up, why are you still hiding it?" the high school delinquent scolded him. _Scolded him!_ When would they just shut up?! "The way I see it, the more people you have helping you, the better chance you have of getting out of this mess. That's why you came to Getaboushi's in the first place, right?"

"Hitsugaya-taichou, we won't hold it against you, whatever your reason is. I don't care if you say we don't owe you anything. I know we still do. You helped us, so let us help you." At Hitsugaya's silence, she smiled sweetly. "Or else I'll make sure you end up in such a horrible condition that you'll have no choice but to ask for our help."

Where had his authority gone, for goodness sake? Kuchiki Rukia had only just discovered his rank was caput, and she was already making threats. This was ridiculous! He turned around to face his two newest shadows, his expression showing every bit of annoyance he was experiencing. "If you don't shut up right now…"

He never finished. The look on Kurosaki's face made him stop. The substitute's scowl had thinned into a determined line. There was no point in finishing his threat. This was Kurosaki's way of saying that he wasn't going to go through with his promise. He was going to tell Kuchiki right here and now. He didn't care about Hitsugaya's threats any longer.

"I guess a couple of arrancar jumped up on their porch steps while we were in Hueco Mundo. One of them gave Toushirou here a nasty bite on his back and told him that it was from crazy, fox-faced taichou. The wound messed him up, and now he's got electro-poison wave thingies going through his body. He couldn't stay in Soul Society, or else they'd fry him, so he's playing the guy's sick game so he can get help from Getaboushi."

Rukia's violet orbs were wide with disbelief. "I-Is that true…?"

Hitsugaya was very nearly beyond words. His mind was racing with so many unintelligible thoughts that he couldn't interpret any of them at all. Finally, he just had to shut it down. He couldn't keep doing this. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. "Yes," he replied, his voice leveled into a soft, steady monotone. "But none of that matters anymore."

"And why not?" Kurosaki countered instantly.

Hitsugaya only walked out of the room, leaving them behind with a simple, three word answer.

"Because I lost."

He hadn't walked more than a few meters before he heard that oh-so-familiar voice that he had come down here to avoid in the first place.

"It's time."

"Is Matsumoto ready?" he asked coldly, looking Urahara Kisuke in the eye.

The cane-toting salesman smirked, pulling his hat down so that it shaded his eyes as they walked. "This wasn't my idea," he taunted. "Why're you asking me?"

"Because you were just talking to her," Hitsugaya replied, refusing to take the man's bait.

Urahara shook his head disapprovingly. "About that… It seems Aizen's up to something. We just shared a lovely conversation about it in my work shop. It involved a great deal of angry yelling and pushing," he whined, swinging the cane absently at his side. "He called up Seireitei and asked if they had any extra Ten Division taichou in stock."

It took a moment for Hitsugaya to translate this into something that made sense. "Aizen Sousuke … asked for me?"

"A trade. You for some happier hunting grounds."

"That doesn't make any sense," Hitsugaya frowned.

"Nope, it doesn't," the blonde man grinned. "By asking Seireitei to hand you over, he makes himself seem like he doesn't know where you are. That alone proves that he knows exactly where you are. Otherwise, he wouldn't have pulled such a pointless stunt. What Aizen's telling us is that he really is the one behind that untraceable hollow. He's been watching us."

"Which means he can send more of those hollows whenever he feels like it," Hitsugaya finished lamely.

"Hitsugaya-kun, the hollow you encountered was obviously sent for nothing more than observational purposes. If he intends to get in our way, there's a high probability that he isn't going to send a couple of normal hollows next time."

The boy's frown deepened in contemplation. Aizen knew he was here, which meant he knew what Ichimaru Gin had done. Why was he even bothering…? "So … Aizen is threatening you with arrancar?"

"Not me. This was never about me," Urahara waved him off as if the notion was ridiculous. "I just happened to be the way, and now I just happen to be in the way again. I'm afraid I'm in the way quite often."

"What are you saying?"

"Aizen's little ruse, plainly and simply, means one thing and one thing only," he replied, his eyes still shaded by the rim of his bucket hat. "Aizen wants to join the game."

Hitsugaya couldn't believe what he was hearing. "The game is over. I'm already as good as dead."

"Tsk, tsk, Hitsugaya-kun," Urahara smirked knowingly, swinging the cane out in front of the small boy's chest. "That's the best kind of person to play with."

* * *

Chapter Eighteen End


	20. Nine Lives

"_In the faces of men and women I see God."_

_Walt Whitman_

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

Nine Lives

* * *

Really, Hitsugaya should have expected this.

He had been the one who had been skeptical. Matsumoto had readily informed him of what had happened before. After all, zanpakutou spirits all had personalities that reflected their wielders. Often the spirits were even more extreme, even in all of their wisdom.

And so he really shouldn't have been surprised when he walked in on Matsumoto Rangiku standing five meters away from Haineko, holding her hands over her ears and shouting nonsense words at the top of her lungs as her zanpakutou spirit shamelessly plowed through the many verses of "Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall."

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

All it had taken was a nudge and a wink from Urahara, and he was ready to turn right back around.

It had been over three hours since then, and it appeared that Matsumoto hadn't gotten much farther ahead. He could still hear her shrill shouts from deep below every once in a while, attempting to get the ornery zanpakutou spirit to listen to her. And ornery she was.

Hitsugaya had been rather intrigued by Haineko's appearance. The large, lithe white tiger was decorated in white and black stripes that contrasted sharply with each other. The spirit's regal face was lined in a small mane of sorts, not as prominent as a lion's but enough to emphasis its stark features. The stripes seemed to meld into themselves as they curved around the sharp, pink eyes and bristling whiskers, emphasizing the pure white muzzle that ended in a glorious, saber-esque jaw line. The wild cat's paws were also entirely white and harbored claws a great deal larger than they should have. Its tail was in constant motion, not so much a tail as an ash storm in and of itself, never quite reaching an entirely solid state. Around its neck was a pink scarf that matched its eyes, a scarf that was very similar to Matsumoto's own.

Haineko. Ash cat. It fit.

Riding on the coarse winds, clogging the lungs and killing the senses, a storm without water or sand, the afterthought and the locust mentality. The diminutive taichou sighed at the thought, resting his back against the familiar rise of Urahara Shoten's roof. Damn it all, now he was getting sentimental. He wasn't supposed to do that; not now. Not so close to the end…

Unwillingly, her voice from only hours ago came back to him.

"Taichou! What did I tell you?! See? She's nothing but a lazy bum! Help me out, Taichou! If it's you, you can just freeze her mouth shut!"

"You were the one who asked for this in the first place," Hitsugaya had huffed dryly. He wasn't going to help her with something like this. This she needed to do herself, and she knew it.

"Seventy-two bottles of beer on the wall! Seventy-two bottles of beer!"

"But, Taaaaaiiiichou!" the busty woman had continued to whine over the voice of her zanpakutou.

Hitsugaya knew full well that she wasn't really expecting his help and that she knew all of this already. She had been the one to school him on zanpakutou spirits in the first place. This meant she intended to garner something completely different from this conversation, whatever that may be. "If you want to learn bankai, you're going to have to synchronize with Haineko on your own. Otherwise, there's no meaning to it," he had continued to insist. He'd been about to open his mouth to say more when he stopped, realization dawning.

Oh. Of course. Well, that was extremely annoying.

"Take one down; pass it around! Seventy-one bottles of beer on the wall!"

"What did you say, Taichou?!" she'd called back, feigning ignorance.

The young shinigami could only huff, turning away. That stupid woman… Why he kept her as his fukutaichou was a mystery to him. She was like a parasite, slowly eating away at him, and yet if he tried to pull her out now after all this time, it would only cause more trouble. "I said," he'd grumbled, his voice hardly audible above Haineko's blissful singing, "I'm sorry for not telling you right away."

"Don't worry about it!" she had replied, a large, knowing smile surging across her lips. "Just remember! I'm not doing this to replace you, you lousy excuse for a taichou! I'm doing it so I can _help_ you! Don't ever forget!"

Oh, damn it all.

Another sigh, and the small boy shifted his position against the rise on the roof.

"_If you want to learn bankai, you're going to have to synchronize with Haineko on your own. Otherwise, there's no meaning to it."_

She'd figured it out on her own. Ever since the damn ice cream. It hadn't been that long ago, not really, but it felt like ages. He'd been done in by his own words. If he wanted people to understand, he was going to have to stop beating around the bush. He had to do things the right way … or else there'd be no meaning to it. He was as good as dead. Meaning was all he had left. He wouldn't allow anyone to take that away from him, not even himself.

He fingered the ridiculous collar around his neck, courtesy of Urahara Kisuke. It was because of this device that he still had time before his symptoms began immobilizing him. Already, the incessant migraine was getting worse. That didn't exactly help matters, but he refused to let it hinder them. He had time, and he needed to put it to good use.

So what was the next step?

The sound of the door opening answered his question quite nicely. He turned around to glare Kurosaki Ichigo in the eye before the teenaged redhead shut the door behind him. "Where's Kuchiki?" he asked, his tone remaining indifferent despite the fact that Kurosaki must have known otherwise.

"Battling Renji," was the simple reply.

"She can feel free to tell him everything," the shinigami finally conceded. "There's really no point to keeping it secret anymore."

"Who all have you told?" Kurosaki got straight to the point.

Right. No more beating around the bush. This was the next step. It was the only choice he had left, if he didn't want to… Hitsugaya snorted. "You and Kuchiki. Urahara knows, as does your father and the Quincy's father. Matsumoto … knows enough."

"You told her?" the redhead asked, clearly surprised at the mention of Matsumoto.

"…No," Hitsugaya conceded. "With her, the details don't matter. She just knows."

"Oh."

The substitute shinigami took the moment of silence to approach, leaning his back against the rise as well. He still remained a good meter out of reach, but Hitsugaya knew he was bound and determined not to leave the Tenth taichou alone until he got what he wanted. They were all idiots, the lot of them. Well, then. The next step would undoubtedly be to stop complaining about these idiots and start ridding himself of all them once and for all, and to do that, he would have to educate them properly. With a deep breath, he decided to get this over with. It wasn't going to be easy.

But he supposed even he wasn't above taking a leaf out of Matsumoto's book every once in a while.

"I promise to remain civil if you do," the white haired boy acquiesced grudgingly. So when the high school delinquent nodded his agreement, he could only ask, "What do you want?"

Kurosaki Ichigo scowled his reply. "I want you to stop sulking and start accepting my he-"

"Don't say that word," the shinigami cut him off before he could finish, his expression saying clearly that he simply didn't want to hear it. "If it was anyone else, I wouldn't mind, but you idiots…" He paused, taking in another deep breath. He had promised, after all. He could at least try not to insult them.

"I don't get it, Toushirou." Twitch. "You asked Getaboushi for help right off the bat. You even asked the vaizard for answers! But when I come offering, you act like I don't exist. And even when I tried to get around it by helping out after the vaizard told you all of that stuff, you went and paid me back for it like it was a debt or something."

"That's the problem, _Kurosaki_," Hitsugaya snorted, putting a great deal of emphasis on Ichigo's surname. "You just don't get it. You don't understand that there's a difference."

"A difference between what?" the redhead huffed, obviously peeved at the fact that he had no idea what Hitsugaya was talking about.

"I don't want your brand of help, Kurosaki. I am not being imprisoned against my will, guarded by an ill-informed and outright deceived military, nor have I been kidnapped and taken into hostile enemy territory. Do you understand?"

"What do Rukia and Orihime have to do with this?" the substitute shinigami persisted, his growing frustration evident on his glaring features. "This is completely different."

"Yes, Kurosaki. I am not one of your damsels in distress; you are far from a knight in shining armor; and Aizen is not so easily defeated as a dragon. This is completely different. So tell me, why do you insist on treating it the same, your brain still lost in its fairy tale world where there's always a happy ending?" he countered none-too-subtly. In his defense, he really wasn't very good at this. The times when he'd had to explain himself and his ideals to someone else were few and far between. Usually, one look at his haori and the inevitable reply was, "Yes, sir."

"I never said I was going to charge in on some stupid, white steed!" the teenager growled. "You're in trouble, and if I'm not around to keep you from doing it, you just walk around aimlessly like the world's already ended. It drives me crazy, okay? You can't blame me for wanting to help. If I don't save your ass, who will? You're obviously not doing anything to help yourself!"

The only sign that this statement had any impact on the youthful shinigami was the painful pounding of his migraine steadily growing in magnitude. He slowly folded his arms across his chest, looking up into the night sky. It was nearly midnight; a couple of minutes and Wednesday would tick its way onto the clock. He vaguely recognized that he'd have to get up for school the next day.

"Help is a vague word; it can mean a great deal. To aid, to benefit, to contribute, to cooperate, to favor, to guide, to promote, to relieve … and to rescue," he rattled off with ease, still glaring determinedly up at the stars. "You, Kurosaki, are intent on rescuing me. I don't need that kind of help. That kind of help isn't any help at all. Not to me. I don't need people solving my problems for me. If I'm going to feel any guilt, it's going to be over something I did on my own."

When Kurosaki didn't reply, he struck up a different tangent. "Originally, I'd intended for Matsumoto to continue her bankai training so that if anything happened, the Tenth Division would still have a leader to its name. But today she warned me that she had no desire to replace me. She warned me because she knew, Kurosaki. She knew better than I did.

"The world isn't dying and neither am I. I know the odds are stacked against me; I know I might as well be dead already. I'm living on borrowed time as it is. But even though I know that I don't stand a chance, even though I've known all along, I have never once given up. If I had, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

His tone of voice implied an unspoken but very final _because I wouldn't be here_. Kurosaki obviously didn't like that implication, but he seemed to be catching on, none-the-less. Despite all of his impulsiveness, Hitsugaya could never call the boy stupid. "So if you're not giving up, then what are you going to do?"

"First, I asked Urahara, and now I ask you," came the slow, almost grudging reply as the young shinigami's gaze slowly panned downward from the stars to meet with Kurosaki's once more. This was it. The next step. "Kurosaki Ichigo. Please cooperate with me."

"I promise to be civil if you do," the cocky redhead smirked in reply.

And Hitsugaya almost cracked a smirk of his own. "I promise nothing."

* * *

Wednesday passed by with little happenstance. Haineko had finally stood up and gotten down to business, though how Matsumoto had managed that, Hitsugaya didn't have a clue. He couldn't exactly ask Matsumoto. He just had to content himself with putting his faith in her, and, really, he didn't find that to be hard at all. She'd told him she could do it. If there was one thing he'd learned about Matsumoto, it was that when she said she could do something, then there was no question that she could do it.

She often boasted of out-drinking Madarame and Abarai. She'd admitted that she had taught herself how to contort her body just enough to squeeze through the office window when she felt that he was in a particularly bad mood. She'd even confessed to knowing exactly what to say to each and every man in the Tenth Division to get exactly what she wanted from them.

But never once had she ever professed to be a diligent worker.

In Hitsugaya's eyes, the odds were definitely in her favor.

* * *

"What's everyone's status?"

"Rukia's at my place with Dad and the twins. Orihime and Tatsuki have been sticking together; Tatsuki's spending the night at Orihime's. Chad and Uryuu have been taking turns babysitting Mizuiro and Keigo; right now it's Chad's turn, so Uryuu should be out patrolling with Renji."

Hitsugaya frowned as he and Kurosaki turned a corner on their way to Urahara Shoten. When Kurosaki had brought up the twins, he had been reminded of that loud-mouthed, little girl's demands. Today was Thursday; she'd wanted to meet him today. For just a second, he considered it, but he quickly shoved the thought aside. If Kurosaki's report was accurate, she was at home and therefore not waiting for him. He'd never agreed to the meeting anyway; that girl had been beyond aggravating. It was best to prioritize her safety over any mental turmoil at this point.

"Good. Shihouin has been keeping a close watch on Nell, Ururu, and Jinta, while Urahara's been aiding Matsumoto. She won't let them out of her sight."

Kurosaki Ichigo stared blankly ahead for a few seconds before absently mumbling, "Actually, I don't think anybody's going to need to be watching Nell."

"None-the-less, for now we should remain as spread out as possible while still holding decent forces in each area and remaining in each others sensory ranges. It's unclear exactly how Aizen intends to make his presence known, but even if he isn't taking this seriously, we're going to have to tread as carefully and precisely as we're able. He's made it clear he knows our every move. We can't surprise him."

"But it sounds like power is still pretty heavy at Getaboushi's. It's like you're counting upstairs and downstairs as completely different places."

"That's because they are," Hitsugaya snorted, not willing to go into detail on the strange and often disturbing goings-on within Urahara's complicated psyche. "Just think of the training area as a pocket dimension of sorts."

"Dimension?" Kurosaki scowled down at his shorter companion, only to realize he wasn't listening. "Hello? Earth to Toushirou?" He was just about to wave his hand in front of the little guy's face before he suddenly felt it too. His brown eyes widened in tune with Hitsugaya's before both boys broke into a run.

"Was that-!?"

"Matsumoto!" Hitsugaya growled back through the wind. "But her reiatsu was too erratic!"

"Does that mean something's wrong?"

Hitsugaya only sped up his pace, reaching the building with two hasty shunpo steps. Kurosaki was only a second behind as the two jumped in through a window and bolted down to the training facility.

Several unexpected sights met them when they did so. The most noticeable was a large, gaping, barren nothingness in the center of the area with only a mannequin-like dummy lying limply in its deserted quarry. The second was Matsumoto Rangiku herself, zanpakutou drawn, standing unmoving just outside the perimeter of the wasted land. The third was Urahara Kisuke, grinning like a maniac as the brim of his bucket hat let free a steady stream of smoke.

One second, two seconds… Hitsugaya wasn't sure how much time passed in the tense silence as he debated at lightning speeds about the probability of every possible cause and how each could have produced these results. Then the spell was broken by the voice he'd least expected to hear.

"Kokonotsu no ... Inochi … Haineko…"

And Matsumoto collapsed to the ground.

"Matsumoto!"

Hitsugaya was instantly by her side, checking her vitals. She was unharmed, thank heavens, and her only problem seemed to be overexertion. That, combined with those last words she'd whispered pointed to only one conclusion. "…She did it. She made the time limit," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing.

"'Course, she did," the redheaded teenager nodded his affirmation. "She's your fukutaichou, right?"

"Right," he snorted, hardly registering his own voice, let alone the relief obvious in every syllable. Just then, for just that moment, he'd really thought… No. He had known she could do it, and she had. That was the end of that.

* * *

"So … that erratic pulsing … is normal for this procedure?"

Urahara Kisuke broke himself out of his amused stupor to give the young shinigami a quick once over. All seemed well, for now at least. Excellent.

"How should I know?" the be-hatted salesman hummed brightly, pinching the fabric of his hat to put out the persistent plume of smoke. "Shouldn't you be asking if it's normal for _her_?" Letting loose a genuine laugh, Urahara couldn't help but grab his stomach to contain his mirth. This was better than a joke. "I haven't seen anything like that in a while! It's always the stubborn ones, isn't it?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kurosaki shot back accusingly. "What happened?"

"That, my ignorant, little friend, is a secret," the blond smirked broadly, holding a finger to his lips and offering the substitute shinigami a sly wink.

And as Ichigo fumed, his attention wandered back to the happily sleeping woman and the boy beside her. Well, after all, even he had a conscience of a sort. And if, hypothetically, he'd happened to witness a shinigami and her zanpakutou spirit get into a cat fight with each other over who better deserved the praise of a certain runt of an ex-taichou, well, he'd be less inclined to gossip than if, say, hypothetically, he pushed Rukia into Ichigo's arms in front of a mortified Abarai Renji.

That was actually a very, very good idea.

"Well, now that my job's done here, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to plot evil deeds and mentally scar some adolescents," he excused himself in all seriousness but not before he heard the soft voice of Hitsugaya Toushirou mutter to himself.

"I'll stay then."

"Awww. Toushirou and Rangiku sitting in a tree!" he chanted shamelessly, dodging anything and everything the diminutive taichou could find to throw at him, just barely escaping unscathed. Though certainly not without a great deal of effort.

So maybe he could gossip a _little_ bit. Life just wasn't fun any other way.

Especially with war just over the horizon and a deadly game peeking through the threatening twilight.

* * *

"Kokonotsu no Inochi…" Hitsugaya repeated under his breath once he'd calmed down. That stupid salesman always knew just how to annoy him at exactly a single level above his tolerance range, but now that he'd regained his cool demeanor, Matsumoto's voice came back to him yet again.

Kurosaki chuckled, though the humor didn't quite reach his face. "Nine lives, huh?" he trailed thoughtfully. "Sounds pretty lucky for you."

"I don't need luck. I need skill."

"Sounds like plenty of that too."

* * *

Chapter Nineteen End

* * *

**Kokonotsu no Inochi** - Thanks to celadonserpent for correcting Matsumoto's bankai name. This is one possible translation for "nine lives."


	21. Retro Virus

"_I know why the caged bird sings"_

_Maya Angelou_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

Retro Virus

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Matsumoto to wake up again, and it hadn't been long after that before she had insisted on showing off and learning how to harness her new power. Hitsugaya was loath to admit that Kurosaki's assessment of her bankai had been right on the mark, but that wasn't enough to hold back his prideful smirk. She had only had her bankai for a matter of hours now, and she was nowhere near skilled enough with it to use it properly, but give her a few months, and he knew she'd have it down to an exact science. Before long, she'd be able to give Abarai some trouble. He knew she wouldn't let him keep boasting for long. She'd do almost anything to cut him down a notch, even if she had to kill for it.

And his smirk disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Hm? Something wrong, Taichou?"

Hitsugaya Toushirou looked up as his fukutaichou plopped down beside him, sweat mixing with the dust she'd upturned in her training. It was Friday afternoon by now, and the young taichou had ditched school the first excuse he'd gotten. They'd spent all night going through the motions and experimenting with her newfound abilities, and they hadn't stopped to rest until everyone else was waking up. She looked tired but energized, practically vibrating, and Hitsugaya understood her ambitious expression all too well.

He shook his head. "You shouldn't overexert yourself so soon. It will only slow down the process, not speed it up."

She took him at his word and let herself fall back so that she was lying on the grass behind him, Haineko sheathed at her side. A minute of comfortable silence passed between them before she started giggling. Hitsugaya finally gave in. "What?" he prompted with a huff, and she only laughed harder.

"Sorry, Taichou. It's just … I was the one who helped you with shikai, but now you're the one helping me with bankai. It's funny. My baby taichou is all grown up!"

The boy snorted. "Just in time apparently," he grunted, his tone bitter. Now he had Matsumoto frowning as well, and he mentally scolded himself, not even realizing that he'd just been called a baby and had actually let it slide.

"Is there any way I can help?" was all she asked.

Hitsugaya hadn't planned on responding. He could have ignored the question easily enough. But somehow his mouth seemed to move of its own accord, and the words stumbled out of nowhere. "How was everyone after I…?"

Matsumoto didn't move, but she managed to force out another chuckle. "Everyone was pretty shocked," she began, methodically picking through what information was okay to give and what wasn't. "I figured out Ukitake-taichou knew you'd left, so I beat everything out of him. He was really worried about you. It's because of him and Kyouraku-taichou that I was allowed to come down here on my own. Soifon-taichou acted all tough and stuck to the rules as always, but when she thought nobody was looking, I saw her fidgeting. I don't think she liked that you disappeared right after an arrancar attack. Izuru and Shuuhei were really awkward; I'm pretty sure they were nervous that Gin or Tousen had done something to you." It took everything in Hitsugaya's power not to wince. "And of course Unohana-taichou was anxious, blaming herself for not being there to help Kotetsu heal you, but Zaraki-taichou was just as soon ready to believe you'd run off to fight them all yourself. It took Kuchiki-taichou and Komamura-taichou both to keep him from trying to get to Hueco Mundo first. Yachiru was even looking for you under flower pots and in puddles. More than anything else, I think Yamamoto-soutaichou was just angry. But none of them really believed you were a traitor."

He refused to look at her. "And Hinamori?"

"She … didn't believe you were a traitor either."

"Right." He heard what she said and interpreted the unspoken answer in between the carefully chosen words. He was no where near Aizen Sousuke's level to her; Hinamori Momo's faith in him would eventually run out. When she realized that nothing else made sense, she could only assume that he'd left her behind. And that was exactly what he'd done.

The thought left him wondering whether he would have felt guiltier if they'd had this conversation a week or two earlier. As it was, the only thing that disturbed him was that he wasn't more disturbed. Somehow, he had pieced it together in a detached part of his mind, though he hadn't given it enough thought to actually acknowledge it. Whereas when he'd first arrived, he could hardly live with himself after what he'd done, now he was feeling rather justified in his actions. He supposed he had Matsumoto and Kurosaki to thank for that. His life was worth something to them for some inexplicable reason, and a nagging voice that sounded disturbingly like Urahara kept telling him that if he was so damn important to them, then he should be important enough to himself that he could afford to put himself first every once in a while.

It was an interesting revelation but not one that he was willing to vocalize just yet.

"Kazuki-kun and Suzume-chan were pretty worried too, you know," the buxom fukutaichou interrupted his introspection, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from Hinamori. "Kazuki tried to finish all your paperwork again, but as usual he worked himself into a fit until I agreed to give him a shoulder massage. Suzume-chan was taking control of everything in that quiet way that she always does, so she's probably handling the division well enough."

The Tenth Division didn't need him. He knew that, but it still hurt in a selfish sort of way, as did something else. Seeing as he'd already blurted out as much as he had, the young white crowned former taichou figured it would be best to just go the full mile. "Matsumoto, Kurosaki's father was in charge of the Tenth before I was?"

Her face lit up as she pushed her back up off the ground. "Yup. I learned from the best," she grinned. A single, pale brow rose in question, and she laughed again. "I learned from _both_ of the best."

She was still trying to keep the conversation as light as possible, but Hitsugaya just wouldn't have it. He didn't have time for that sort of thing anymore; brevity was key, even if he didn't like what he was about to say any more than she would. When he finally opened his mouth, he was looking away again. "If he and I, if we were both … in danger … who would you go to first? If you had to choose one over the other…?"

He could feel her tense instantly, could almost taste her anger in the air, but he didn't back down. After a moment of near painful silence, she shifted position, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I was a wreck after Isshin disappeared, you know." Her voice was quiet but urgent, and he made sure to hear every syllable. "After Gin left me behind in Rukongai, he found me and dragged me here. He taught me everything I knew, even how to hold my liquor." A bitter, strangled chuckle. "He brought me back to Gin. He gave me something I'd never had before. And then so did you." She looked him squarely in the eyes, as if daring him to refute her.

"You know very well that I could never make a choice like that, and if you ever ask again, you're going to be sorry."

Matsumoto had essentially threatened her own taichou. There was another long silence between them, but this time Hitsugaya was the one to break it as he stood up and brushed himself off. He let loose a long, drawn out sigh before nodding once. "Yeah… That's what I thought you'd say. I apologize for offending you. Take an hour off to relax and stretch, then we'll resume."

One foot in front of the other, and he was already walking away before Matsumoto could comprehend the fact that her taichou had apologized for offending her. He did that on a daily basis, often with great pleasure, and she returned everything he threw at her. It was supposed to be _fun_. It wasn't anymore.

"Matsumoto. Don't change. When the time comes, I'll make the choice for you. So just be patient, and don't change."

With that, he stepped into shunpo and disappeared from the underground training facility. Slowly she pulled herself to her feet, running fingers through long, maple bangs as she stared at the now vacant spot before her.

"Where did that come from…?"

* * *

It was getting late, but it was hardly dark. Street lights and signs lit the way as a group of six looked around in thinly veiled anticipation. The tension in the air was palpable, though they remained impossibly casual as the minutes ticked on.

"Ne, ne? Feel him yet? I'm getting boooored!"

"'Old your bloody 'orses. It's gonna 'appen tonight; a coupla minutes won't make a difference."

"But I can taste all of the reiatsu on the wind…. Makes me all excited, y'know? To think when we got stuck with this sort of assignment, I thought we'd gotten the short end of the stick."

"Ke. We _did_. Think of all the fun they're having in Soul Society right now…."

"Aw, it's not as bad as all that, is it?"

"…He's here."

And everyone silenced as the man they'd been waiting for stepped out of the shadows, a killer smile stretching across his lips. "Been waitin' long, have ya?" the man drawled cheerfully. No one dared answer.

"S'alright. Ya know what yer all here fer. I jus' got one rule for ya all before I let ya have yer fun…."

* * *

A loud, derisive snort escaped his lips as a vein pulsed painfully in his forehead.

Meet me on Thursday, she'd yelled. He hadn't been there. He would have thought she'd dealt with that sort of thing enough to understand. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten one very important detail. Understanding was not the same as acceptance, and Kurosaki Karin was far too much like her older brother to be healthy for her.

And so, really, Hitsugaya had to wonder if it was his fault when, after a long walk out of his gigai and a brief meeting concerning everyone's locations and the patrol radius for the night, he felt the very distinct reiatsu of Kurosaki Karin hiding behind the sign announcing Karakura Park. Watching that tuft of cropped, black hair sticking tauntingly out above the cement sign, as if just begging him to notice, was perhaps the most aggravating thing he'd had to deal with since he'd arrived in Karakura. And that was really saying something when Urahara was your acting landlord.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass straight back home."

Karin jumped nearly two feet in the air at the voice, peering over the top of the sign to see who had threatened her. When she realized it was him, she smiled. Great. Just great. Now was getting _smug_ about it. "Man, Ichi-nii's rubbing off on you."

Hitsugaya did not want to hear that. "That's not a valid reason."

"Che," the young girl huffed as she stood up straight, arms folding across her chest in a perfect imitation of the shinigami before her. "How else was I supposed to get anybody's attention, huh? If even you're gonna ditch me, then I've got no choice but to make you come."

Grinding his teeth, he took a step forward. She had used that same excuse when she kicked that stupid soccer ball at him. "If I can sense you, other people can too. Did you stop and think about that one?"

"Well, now we're getting somewhere," she smirked triumphantly. "What other people? I want some answers already. What's going on?"

"Go home."

It became crystal clear she had no idea what she was getting into when she marched the distance between them and grabbed his haori in tight, angry fists, glaring him directly in the eye. "I'm not going anywhere until someone tells me what's going on, and you're the only one who's even gotten close! You said there was a war or something, right? Something like that… That wouldn't make Ichi-nii this anxious!"

Oh, so it was Kurosaki's fault. Figured. "War does that to people," he intoned dryly, removing her hands from their death grip.

"Fighting makes him run off without telling us anything. It doesn't make him fidget around the house and act like the baby sitter from hell."

Hitsugaya blinked. And blinked again. Kurosaki … the baby sitter from hell? The imagery afforded to him by that simple statement finally robbed him of whatever self control he still desperately clung to, and the infamously stoic Tenth Division taichou Hitsugaya Toushirou _laughed_. It was a short, strangled snort of a laugh, but it was a laugh none-the-less, and when Karin heard it, she couldn't hold back a chuckle of her own.

"Yeah," she smirked. "It really is that bad."

Maybe it was the fact that she'd proven she really did need to know or she'd never stay where she was safe. Maybe it was because the image of Kurosaki wearing an apron running and yelling after two bratty kids had left him semi-dazed. Maybe he was just too damn tired to care anymore. Whatever the reason for his decision, if he had known how much he'd regret it, he would have dragged the girl kicking and screaming all the way home. Unfortunately, he didn't know, and so he only sighed and finally gave in to Kurosaki Karin's demands.

"Very well. If that's what it takes to keep you from running away from home every night, then so be it," he huffed, making sure to sound slightly more agitated than he really was. "The upcoming war, while it is a dire threat, isn't our first priority at the moment. When that time comes, we'll actually be prepared. As it is, it is very likely that an ambush is on its way, one we won't sense until it's too late, and we have no means of gaining any back-up support."

"Huh? Why?" Karin pressed, dark brows furrowed in concern.

"The why doesn't matter," he huffed, meeting her eye to eye. "Just understand that no one with any level of detectable reiatsu, including you, should be alone right now."

"What about you?"

She received a frustrated snort for her accusation. "That's different. I was in between locations; I wasn't standing out here making myself a perfect target."

"In between locations is a perfect place to be ambushed," she pouted in return before smirking triumphantly. "Besides, I'm with you. I'm not alone."

"Damn it!" he cursed, Karin's smirk vanishing to make way for confusion as the small shinigami suddenly tensed. "I'm the last person you want to be protecting you right now! Come on!" He grabbed her wrist, fully intending to shunpo to Kurosaki's home and demand to be told how she'd gotten past them all, but he never got the chance.

The moment he moved to leave, a cero beam erupted between them, and he only had enough time to yank the girl out of the way before it rocketed past, effectively eliminating a large tree behind them.

Teal-green eyes darted frantically in the direction the blast had originated and came to halt on the form of what could only be an arrancar. Messy black hair stuck out in every direction to frame a well tanned face, pale orange eyes watching him and Kurosaki's sister in disdain. The body was lean and fit, clothed in typical Hueco Mundo garb excepting for the addition of projecting slits around his wrists that almost looked like talons. His zanpakutou was sitting horizontally against his back just under the characteristic hole, and a bony protrusion followed the right side of his jaw before curving upward to a point. If his expression was any indication, he wasn't pleased.

"Ke. Of all the people I could've come after, I just had to get the two smallest brats of the bunch," he grumbled, more to himself than to either of his chosen victims. But then he looked up, pointing to Karin. "Oi. You, girl. Your name isn't Rangiku, is it?"

"Uh … no. It's Karin…." Her voice was quiet but still there. Good.

"Well, isn't that just a silver lining. At least I can have fun with you brats."

Hitsugaya clenched his teeth as he reached for Hyourinmaru, pulling himself back up to his full height. Not exactly impressive, but at least it was better than staying crouched in the grass. "What do you want with Matsumoto?" he seethed, his tone deadly.

Unfortunately, this arrancar seemed immune. The pale, pumpkin colored eyes locked onto him, and a mocking smile rose to the arrancar's thin lips. "I don't want anything to do with her. Besides, we have orders not to touch her. You, on the other hand… That's a pretty big zanpakutou for someone your size, huh?" the creature sneered. "That must make you the little taichou. Maybe this won't be so bad after all."

_Little taichou._ The young shinigami bit down, hard. _Ichimaru Gin._ He pointed Hyourinmaru's blade directly toward the intruder's chest. "If anyone so much as misplaces a hair on her head…"

But before he could even finish, the arrancar was already laughing. "Kekeke! What the hell do you think you could do about it?! If I killed her now, right in front of you, you _still_ wouldn't be able to do a damn thing! You've got less reiatsu than your little girlfriend!"

Instinctively, his free hand traveled to the collar still situated around his neck. It was his last line of defense against whatever Ichimaru had done to him; it was also what made him completely and utterly devoid of spiritual power. Damn it! This was exactly what he had needed to avoid.

When he didn't reply, the arrancar laughed again. "That shut you up, didn't it, Toushirou? Ke." He bent his arm back to retrieve his own zanpakutou, sliding two fingers down the glistening blade. "Well, now that I know your names, it's only fair I give you mine. You can call me Buitre; I am one of the Raptores. And this," he indicated the zanpakutou, "is your new king."

Shit.

Hitsugaya knew exactly what was about to happen, and he knew he had no time to waste. He dove for Kurosaki's sister, not even bothering to look at her before pulling her along with him. They didn't make it very far.

"Rodea, Rey de Carroña."

A spiral of wind with the force of a brick wall blocked their chosen escape route, and as the young taichou whirled around, he quickly realized it was blocking _every_ escape route. Hair and clothes flew violently about their persons, and tree branches, litter, anything not bolted to the ground was thrown about in the veritable twister that now surrounded them.

He couldn't see a damn thing.

"Toushirou!" It took him a moment to realize it was Karin who was calling out. Had he ever told her his name…? "What the hell is going on?! What'd he do?!"

"Just stay down!" he shouted back, over the thrashing, howling wind.

He could feel her shift position next to him, but not a second later she jerked back into his side, screaming. "Behind you!"

They both tumbled down just in time to see a giant weapon swoop overhead with the rest of the debris. He'd only seen it for a second, but that was all it took to realize how deadly it was. The main body was nothing but a round, metal circlet the size of a person's head, but spinning around the circlet were two, curved, sickle-like blades, each one almost a meter in length and half as wide.

"Like it, do you?" sneered the arrancar, Buitre. Hitsugaya couldn't see him, damn it! He was hiding in the dense winds. Either that, or he was outside of them altogether. "By all means, take a closer look."

He pushed Karin down to the ground, not even hearing her protests as the swirling blades flew toward them again. A glint of light, a vortex of sound next to his ear, and the sickles burst past. He saw the spray of blood before he felt the pain.

"Toushirou!"

Blood was splattered all down her front, but none of it was hers. Thank goodness. His shoulder was split clean through, the blood dripping down the length of his arm. It was his left, not his sword arm. He could still wield Hyourinmaru effectively. Military mind running on overdrive, he cursed himself for his stupidity and vulnerability. He searched frantically for any way out, any strategy that would keep them alive. The dog tag attached to the collar jingled erratically in the rushing wind, but he refused to acknowledge it.

There had to be another way out. He just had to think of it.

Karin was on her feet again, and Hitsugaya hastily moved to cover as much of her as he could. "Knock it off, would ya?" she insisted with a light shove. "I can't see when you do that."

"See?" he hissed in frustration. This definitely wasn't helping.

"There's this flicker before the thing comes flying at us! I think it's that guy in the wind!"

Knowing where it would come from would help, but they couldn't dodge forever, and if he couldn't fight back, they'd be left with only the option of enduring until help came. _If_ help came. Hitsugaya sincerely doubted this arrancar was the only one. Damn, damn, damn. Maybe they could still use it to their advantage. If they moved at just the right moment, maybe they could expand the flicker, disrupt the wind flow, and make a run for it.

There!

A flicker in the wind, and Hitsugaya forced his companion out of the way as the weapon careened past them. She was right.

What happened after this revelation was all very, very fast. One moment he was opening his mouth to ask just how fast she could run, and the next he felt an unexpected weight push against his back followed by the sharp point of a blade digging into his flesh. Eyes wide as his mind supplied the only explanation, he pulled away to another spray of blood and whirled around just in time to catch Kurosaki Karin before she slumped to the ground, one of the blades piercing her clean through. More blood than ever was now flying through the wind, scattering her dying life force across the small, city park.

It had detached. One of the sickles had detached from the ring and skewered her.

And he had let it happen.

He'd been so busy trying to find a way out that he hadn't considered the possibilities of what could happen within. There was no soul connected by a chain. She was so damn stubborn, and she was clinging to life like a child to its mother. But she didn't have much time, no matter how stubbornly she struggled. And it was his fault. There were a million and one things he could have done differently to avoid this.

That finally clinched it.

Carefully, he set Karin down in the middle of the spiraling vortex of wind. As soon as he was sure she wouldn't move, he stood up once again and grasped the specially prepared dog collar. Urahara had given it to him with a promise of at least two more weeks. Now he was going to give that time to Kurosaki's sister.

A fierce tug ripped it right off and sent it sailing on the wind with the other debris.

Holding Hyourinmaru at the ready, determined to block out the pain that still assailed his shoulder and back, he called upon the last vestiges of his strength and went through with his final, desperate option.

"Set upon the frozen heavens, Hyourinmaru!"

* * *

Matsumoto Rangiku's head instantly shot upward, forgetting all about her prior frustration.

Her taichou had told her they would resume training in an hour. It had been two, and she was on the verge of stalking after him and demanding to know what could have possibly distracted him. But there was no reason to do that now. The answer was crystal clear.

Hitsugaya Toushirou had just released his shikai.

She didn't look back as she raced neither past a frowning Urahara Kisuke, nor as she side-stepped Shihouin Yoruichi and the kids. She shunpo'd right out of the underground training facility, bulldozed into Urahara Shoten, and phased through the tiled roof before speeding toward her taichou's reiatsu signature.

"Nuh-uh. Not yet, ya don'," scolded a painfully familiar voice, and Rangiku instantly stepped out of shunpo, bracing her feet on a floor of air. "Not after I worked so hard ta get ya all ta myself."

Her teeth ground shut when the former Third Division taichou stepped unabashedly out in front of her. "Gin."

"Ran-chan. S'been a long time."

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?"

The silver haired man cocked his head playfully, his ever-present smile glinting in the gray light of the coming dusk. "What? Ya mean he didn' tell ya? I warned 'im to look after his pretty fukutaichou. I guess he wasn' listenin'."

Matsumoto had her hand on Haineko, though she doubted she'd be able to win such a confrontation. She couldn't give up, not with her taichou out there. At his words, however, he grip on the feline zanpakutou slackened ever so slightly. "Gin… You…?"

"Yare, yare. C'mon, Ran-chan. Did'ja think _Aizen_ would go outta his way ta play wit' the little taichou?"

Ichimaru Gin smiled.

And all Rangiku wanted to do was cry.

* * *

Chapter Twenty End

* * *

Alrighty. Fun stuff ahead.

I don't normally put the author's note down here at the bottom, but I decided it would be best this time because I have something to ask all of you guys. This is the first real step toward _TIW_'s conclusion, and there's going to be a lot of craziness ahead, so I thought I'd ask: would you guys prefer that I keep with my usual update routine and go on to the next chapter of _The Narcissus_, or would you guys prefer I update another _TIW_ chapter before moving on?

It's up to you, so please tell me in your reviews.

Thanks for reading another chapter, and I hope you enjoyed it.

* * *

Spanish Index:

**Buitre** – Vulture

**Raptores** – Birds of prey

**"Rodea, Rey de Carroña."** – "Encircle (Surround), Carrion King."


	22. Like a Worm from a Bird

Alright. I'm going to give you guys fair warning. Hitsugaya is not in this chapter. He's mentioned, but he doesn't make an appearance.

This chapter, more than anything else, is an experiment for me. I tried to flesh out a few characters that I've neglected or that I feel Kubo's neglected, and I tried to write from points of view I've never written before. So, despite that Hitsugaya won't be fighting in this chapter, I'd appreciate constructive criticism for this more than any other chapter thus far. If you see something you don't like, don't hesitate to tell me. And the same goes if you see something you do like.

Consider this to be a late birthday present for Hitsugaya in which _everyone else_ gets whumped for a change. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

"_Let him who desires peace prepare for war."_

_-Flavius Vegetius Renatus_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Like a Worm from a Bird

* * *

"Looks like Buitre's at it again. Why am I not surprised he was the first to engage?"

"I know, really. He never ceases to amaze me. All of that complaining, and yet he still goes after the weakest targets around. A vulture to the bitter end, I guess?"

"Aw, give him some credit. If you were that ugly, you'd complain too."

"Hahah! You're right, you're right. I guess we should just ignore him and count our blessings."

Kurosaki Ichigo watched, body rigid and Zangetsu already in hand, as two figures approached, cutting them off in their dash to Toushirou. He felt Rukia take a step back beside him, and he could hear Tatsuki and Orihime breathing hard behind him on the other side. They'd been about to go find Karin when the former taichou had let loose his reiatsu, and Ichigo was fairly sure that he wasn't supposed to be doing anything of the sort. Not one step later, these two had shown up, striding toward them as nonchalant as could be, conversing like two old girl friends as they let their spiritual pressure overwhelm their victims.

The closer they came, the more obvious it was that they were definitely not friendly, opposites in every way save for their equally feminine appearances and their fatally amused expressions. One sported a long, waist-length braid of pale sea green, held together at the back of her head by four bony spikes. Red eyes peered playfully from behind long bangs, and slender arms rested their elbows against the hilts of two wakizashi, one at each side, as she stood feet spread out in an assertive stance. The other's dark face was half obscured by long, straight, indigo tresses that reached to the smalls of her back, the only visible black iris looking at those spread out before her as if they were nothing but diseased sewer rats. Around that eye was a bony triangle, rounding her eyebrow and down the curves of her cheek. Her stark white uniform could only be described as a formfitting Chinese dress, the long slit up her right leg revealing the hole in her thigh and emphasizing the sword at her waist.

"Well, if we're counting blessings," the darker one smirked, "that's one, two, three…" A pause as her finger pointed to Ichigo. "Three and a half blessings, right here in front of us."

"I don't know what you're after," Ichigo's eyes widened as Rukia weaseled her way into the conversation, sounding much braver than she looked, "but you won't find it here. Leave Karakura, or we will destroy you."

"Ooh! Check it out! The little shinigami one is pretty feisty. Just my type," purred the braided one with a suggestive wink.

And Ichigo's mind instantly ground to a halt. "Wait," he leaned toward Rukia. "Is she … coming on to you?"

The arrancar in the China dress burst out laughing as the other glared down at their pray in a mixture of disgust and insult. Rukia pounded him upside the head, and it wasn't until his eyes trailed grudgingly to the creature's chest, just below the signature hollow hole, that he realized the braided one was actually male. Huh. Who'da thunk it? Yumichika would've had a field day with him.

"Aw, don't take him so seriously. You should consider it a compliment. Men have always been the slower, stupider sex," the woman said helpfully. But the other arrancar wasn't hearing it.

"Oh, no. Nuh-uh. I don't care how stupid he is. I am _not_ a girl, dammit, and now I have to prove that to him in many very painful ways."

"Yeah, that's an attractive mental image," the woman grunted sarcastically, but by this time no one was listening to her.

"Oi, you! Strawberry! The name's Pavo Real. She's Cuervo. What's your name?" called the braided one.

"Kurosaki Ichigo. I'm a substitute shinigami."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard of you. How about your harem girls?"

Ichigo blushed beet red, as did the three girls.

"H-How dare you?!" growled Rukia, calling on whatever inner power source it was that kept her constantly energized and alert. "I am Kuchiki Rukia, member of the noble Kuchiki clan, and if you dare taint that name with such insults again, I'll-!"

A hand clamped itself over her mouth as dark eyes glared firmly at their enemies. "Arisawa Tatsuki and Inoue Orihime. What do you care?"

"I didn't hear a Rangiku in there, did you?"

"Not at all," Cuervo grinned in anticipation.

"Glorious. I'll be taking the strawberry and his whipped cream," he offered them a feral smirk as he removed both wakizashi from their sheaths.

"Then I'll take his two mistresses," she acquiesced, pawing her own weapon fondly.

All four bodies on the ground tensed. Ichigo's eye traveled carefully to Tatsuki. She had seen an arrancar only once, and it hadn't ended well at all. He would have expected her to be the most hesitant, even considering her personality, but somehow it seemed like she was the sharpest of all of them, clenching her hands into fists as she stared the enemy down, ready for anything. Where had that come from? But he had no time to dwell on that question. The resurrección releases were uttered simultaneously.

"Brille, Musa Vana," Pavo Real commanded, his tone deadly.

"Engañe, Amante Oscura," Cuervo intoned, equally malicious.

And even before their transformations were complete, they were already charging.

* * *

"Al Kon?"

"No! You bloomin' idjit! 'Alcón, 'Alcón! 'Alcón de los Raptores! Don' patronize me, ya bloody tomato!"

"I'm not patronizing anybody, damn foreigner!" Abarai Renji grunted in frustration.

"Halcón." Both Renji and their guest turned to Chad, surprised that he'd actually spoken. Thus far, he'd kept his distance from the two obnoxious arguers. "Halcón de los Raptores. It means Falcon of the Birds of Prey."

"Finally! I was beginnin' to wonder if everyone 'ere was bloody brainless!"

"Oi! If your name's Falcon, why didn't you just say so in the first place?!"

"'Cos my name's not Falcon! It's 'Alcón!"

And Sado Yasutora indulged in his second sigh since the arrancar had decided to interrupt their patrol.

The arrancar himself seemed fairly typical, save for his obnoxious foreign accent. Chad didn't pretend to be an expert on the subject, but after having returned from Hueco Mundo, he could safely say Halcón would have fit in nicely. A quick once-over had provided the burly high school student with the basics. Windswept mahogany hair misplaced by a white, wing-like protrusion over his left ear; gold, almond-shaped eyes; just muscular enough to outgrow the term slender but still far from bulky; robed in loose, white fabric with no sleeves, revealing the hole at his shoulder blade; and a katana at his side.

"Shut up, ya bloody 'orse turd! I've 'ad enough o' your lookin' down on me!"

Right. Typical.

"Bring it on, you lousy tourist!"

So he did.

"Fine by me," Halcón growled, yanking the blade from its sheath. "We're s'posed ta be quick anyways. Déspiertete, Jinete del Viento."

The hollow transformation was a sight to behold. Brown hair became brown feathers, gold eyes became hawk-like hollow eyes, bare feet became talons, the protrusion over his ear became a white, bony wing as another sprouted on the other side, and the sword melded into a chain scythe. Chad admired it for a moment, but a moment was all he had.

When Halcón said "quick," he meant it.

The next thing Chad knew, Renji was shouting his bankai release at the top of his lungs, and a speeding, brown blur collided with the bony snake's open mouth. Through the upturning dust, a glint of metal caught his eye, and suddenly Renji was flying backward, Hihiou Zabimaru and all, the arrancar standing where the mouth used to be, unscathed as he yanked the chain scythe back into his outstretched talons. All before Sado Yasutora could even blink an eye.

Then the hollow eyes turned on him. "One down, one ta go. You gonna fight too, big guy? I don't 'ave anythin' against ya personally, but if ya don't, I'm just gonna move on ta the next guy."

Chad's gaze moved in the direction Renji had flown. He had seen blood in the instant the attack hit, and there was no apparent movement from the long, segmented bankai. With that in mind, he simply turned back to Halcón and silently answered by donning his armored arms. A devil and a giant. Surely between the two, they could catch a bird. Or at least stall it.

Halcón eyed the arms critically for a moment before he shrugged, feathers ruffling at the fluid motion. "Suit yaself. Catch me if ya can."

And then he was gone from sight. Insane speeds and a long range weapon. An odd combination, but a surprisingly effective one. There was only one way Chad could think to counter it. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but he only had about a second to think anyway, so when Halcón reappeared right in front of him, just as he'd done with Renji, he acted on instinct.

Talons coming in to tear at his gut, and a quick block with his left. A blunt hit with the handle on the other end of the chain right into his shoulder. No block that time. His left wasn't fast enough, and he couldn't afford to use his right arm yet. Wait for it. Wait for it. Another set of talons, another block with the left. Then came the blade.

Finally.

Brazo Derecho de Gigante flew with practiced speed and precision to block the wayward scythe. Impact. Chad ground his teeth in pain when the curved blade did not bounce off of the large, black shield, instead embedding itself deep into the mouth-like design. He saw a smirk grace the arrancar's lips as Halcón readied himself to retract the weapon, and then he saw it fade when he reached out to grab the chain with his left arm, wrapping it around the appendage and yanking hard.

It was either let go of the chain scythe or drag Chad right along with it. Halcón hesitated for just a second, debating on whether he really wanted to try and separate the large Mexican boy from the scythe. A second was more than Chad could have asked for. Brazo Izquierda del Diablo, chain and all, shot forward to the trapped arrancar, and two words escaped from Chad's lips.

"La Muerte."

It was impossible to miss from this close range. Halcón's eyes widened in shock as he flew back from the devastating hit and … right into Hihiou Zabimaru. His back slammed into the bony white of the snake-like head, and the large bankai proceeded to bash the arrancar deep into the ground below.

"Tsk," Renji grunted from within the segmented coils. A steady flow of blood dripped down from a cut above his left eye, and his fur cowl was stained a deep red from a large wound just below his shoulder. But all in all he was still in full form. "So how long did you know I was alright?"

"From the beginning," came Chad's simple reply, and Renji laughed.

Halcón was slowly getting back to his feet now. No more pointless arguments; no more chances to run. Those eyes told the world he was dead serious now. Chad tensed, ignoring the pain he still felt in his arm.

"C'mon. Let's show this bastard just how much of a mistake he made by coming here," the redhead growled. "Remember what we went over in training?"

Sado Yasutora nodded, and Renji offered him a dangerous smirk.

"Yeah. We're gonna do it exactly like that."

* * *

"Okay, let me get this straight," said Asano Keigo calmly.

Kojima Mizuiro only nodded, leaning against the brick wall behind them and breathing heavily.

"I felt something weird and stepped outside to check it out. The same thing happened to you. We met up, and then some crazy weirdo kid came out of nowhere. I told him to go back to bed, and he bit my finger." He held up the abused protrusion for emphasis. "Then, he said something about us making great target practice, shouted some weird thing to his big, scary sword, and went on a homicidal rampage. Is that right?"

Again, Kojima Mizuiro only nodded. He didn't have the air for a reply, though somehow he wasn't surprised that Keigo did.

"Then why the hell haven't I woken up yet?!"

That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Before this mess began, he'd been on a date. A date. With a drop dead gorgeous woman _and her sister_, he added ruefully. Everything had been fine; everything had been just as it always had.

And then… this.

What Urahara had shown them was nothing compared to this. They weren't ready for this nonsense. He'd been on a _date_ an hour ago. Realizing that he could see ghosts, learning that Keigo and Tatsuki could too, getting to know Hitsugaya-san and eventually Rukia and Renji, training with Urahara… All of it paled in comparison with what they were experiencing now. They were being chased by a damn kid as small as Hitsugaya who apparently wanted nothing more than to flatten them against the pavement. And he'd just been on a _date_.

He couldn't remember ever seeing Keigo even this serious. And in all honesty, he couldn't remember ever being this serious himself.

"Ne, ne. You forgot the part where the 'crazy weirdo kid' and his 'big, scary sword' cast his invincible spell and became your worst nightmare."

Both Mizuiro and Keigo whirled around at the familiar voice, staring at the boy before them. Or, at least, what used to be a boy. Mizuiro recalled the moment all too well. "Suene," the kid had said. "Suene, Príncipe de la Paz." That was all it had taken. Short, blonde hair had morphed into platinum feathers. Grey eyes had been surrounded by black nothingness. Talons grew right out of his wrists. Two small, white nubs on each side of his neck sprouted two white wings. And his simple katana had become a giant telephone pole with razor sharp scythe-teeth all along it.

It was a wonder that the two of them were still breathing.

"The name's Paloma, in case you were interested," the monster drawled lightly, swinging the pole-of-death as if it were as light as a feather. "If you don't wanna die, you should probably fight back, ne? If you don't, this won't be any fun."

The two reluctant high school students turned to each other, the strangely mutual acknowledgement not bypassing either's attention. Keigo instantly began shaking his head, arms flailing in every direction. "Oh, no! No way! I am not gonna be a part of this! I'm running and running 'til I can't run no more!" But Mizuiro was not going to give up without a fight. The crazy kid was obviously going to keep chasing them if they ran again. He wasn't going to go down running when everyone else was out there was doing something to help.

He was gonna live, damn it! He was going to date that drop dead gorgeous woman one more time, and then he was going to date her sister one more time, and then, when he had no regrets, he could die. But not now!

Not after he told Hitsugaya-san not to worry.

He grabbed the other boy's collar, keeping him from running and pulling him close. With the same boyish innocence he used to warp everyone else in the world, he smiled down at Keigo and began one of the hardest tasks he'd ever taken upon himself: convince Asano Keigo to do something that even he didn't want to do. "Aw, c'mon. I can't do it alone. And you know chicks dig the hero types. Don't you want as many girls as Ichigo?"

"Th-Th-That's not fair!" the other boy squirmed. "Your devil charms won't work on me!"

"How about this then?" Asano Keigo instantly stopped struggling when Mizuiro held out his palm, and three red-orange balls of light began floating above it. Keigo would know what they meant. Urahara and Shihouin had been running them around over a week, after all. Keigo and Mizuiro had both seen each other's budding abilities, and Mizuiro was already attempting to pull a strategy together in his mind. The innocent smile made a magnificent come-back. "If you don't want to cooperate, I can just throw you at him with a couple of these, and all of my problems will be solved."

A pause as the other boy eyed the floating spheres of light. "...Fine. But if I die, I'm going to haunt you for all eternity. And I'll never shut up."

Mizuiro's smile widened. Oh, so he knew he was annoying. That would make things a great deal easier.

After Mizuiro whispered hasty instructions into his friend's ear, they stood up and faced the boy once more. He was leaning against the wall and yawning loudly, but when he saw them turn around, he stood up too. "Ne, are you done being boring yet?"

"I am not boring!" Keigo whined in return. "It's just that no one understands my true potential! It's always about 'Ooh! Ichigo's got a girl living in his closet!' or 'Ooh! Mizuiro's gonna ditch us 'cause he has another girlfriend!' I've got redeeming qualities too, dammit!"

"You're loud. And funny," the child arrancar smirked. "You die first."

And Keigo's eyes bulged as the giant, scythe-toothed club came right down on them. Mizuiro ducked, rolled, and disappeared. Keigo, on the other hand, had to try something a little less discreet and a lot more distracting. Closing his eyes tight, as if anticipating a punch to the face, he lifted up his hands. They glowed a deep red, and then came the impact.

His teeth ground painfully together as he felt the cement beneath him crack and give way, pushing him several inches into the ground. But even if the rest of his body was feeling the pressure, his arms held strong, the top of his head only inches away from the deadly teeth. He took in all the oxygen he could as quickly as he could as he watched Paloma's eyes widen in surprise. The smallest of cocky smiles reached his panting lips. "Right back atcha, brat."

With one last deep breath, Keigo pooled together as much reiatsu as he could, and his glowing red hands changed color to a royal blue. The effect was an unexpected shockwave that blew the giant, spiked pole back into the arrancar's face. His feet screeched against the pavement as he skidded backward, slamming into the brick wall with a thud. But before he could pick himself back up, Mizuiro came out of nowhere, the same three balls of light in his hand. He ran right up to the monster and slammed his hands, palm out, into his stomach.

A cock of the head and a cheery smile.

And then the child arrancar's abdomen blew up.

He burst right through the brick barrier and out of sight, leaving the large weapon and a trail of blood in his wake.

For a moment, all Mizuiro or Keigo could do was stare at the mess they'd made, shock keeping them from fully understanding what had just happened. They turned to look at each other, breathing hard and barely standing after the energy they'd exerted. Naturally, Keigo was the first to break the silence.

"Hahaah!" he shouted, just to get rid of some of the excess adrenaline. "Did you see that?! I rock!" He threw up his hands in ecstasy as two small women, one red and one blue, appeared above his shoulders.

"He's so cute when he gets this way," red swooned.

"Yeah, but we're the ones who did all the work," tsked blue.

And once again, Kojima Mizuiro only nodded.

For a moment, all was right in the world again. At least until the ominous shadow fell over them, and they looked up just in time to see a bright blue arrow careen across their vision and disrupt the aim of their enemy's club just before it turned them to mush.

"Generally, people wait until after they've won to celebrate," scolded the familiar voice of Ishida Uryuu, his eye on the child-like arrancar as he clutched his wounded stomach. "If you have any intention of living, I suggest you follow my lead."

And so they did.

* * *

She couldn't see Ichigo or Rukia anywhere. Damn it. Tatsuki tightened her grip on Orihime's wrist as they ran, trying to piece together what the hell was happening. She only knew one thing for sure, and that was that this Cuervo woman was an arrancar. She was like those monsters that Toushirou had described; she was like that bloated bastard that had had her on the ground without so much as a bat of an eye such a short time ago.

And she'd be damned if she was going to let that happen to Orihime! Those arrancar bastards had taken her once; there was no way they were doing it again.

But that insane woman proved every bit as much of a challenge as Tatsuki had thought she'd be. From the feathered, purple-black mane to the sharp, black talons and ebony wings to the friggin' two-bladed scythe. She'd charged, she'd swung that stupid scythe around, she'd separated them from Ichigo and Rukia, and then… And then she'd _done_ something.

She'd done something to Orihime.

Tatsuki bit her lip as she went in for a sharp turn into an alley way, dragging the other girl behind her. She almost looked normal running like this, almost looked like nothing had happened. But all Tatsuki had to do was look into those wide, empty, black eyes and see the constantly moving and yet silent mouth to know Orihime wasn't there anymore.

But she wasn't going to let anything happen to her. She just needed to beat this Cuervo bitch into the ground, and then Orihime would be fine. She knew it. The only problem was how to go about doing that.

The young karate student wracked her brain to come up with something, anything that would give her the upper hand but when the arrancar strode confidently into the alley, she changed her mind. Arisawa Tatsuki hadn't ranked second in that vale tudo championship by trying to duck and dodge and plan longwinded strategies. Oh no. She'd ranked that high because she knew when to charge right in and when to play dirty.

Both were sounding pretty damn nice right about now.

"You're only doing her more harm than good," the woman arrancar smirked sadistically, pointing as Orihime slumped to the floor, mouth still running a mile a minute with no result. "Not that I'm complaining. It's kind of adorable, really."

"What did you do to her?" Tatsuki seethed, slowly, carefully, letting go of Orihime and maneuvering her hand behind her back.

"Oh, nothing much," she shrugged tauntingly, stepping closer every second. "She's just dreaming. It's so relaxing, to take a break from reality every once in a while."

Orihime looked anything but relaxed, and that only fueled Tatsuki's anger. No more stalling. A brilliant, white light shown throughout the alleyway, blinding the arrancar just enough for Tatsuki to leap forward, pulling her hand back for a raging punch. And as the marble-like sphere of solidified reiatsu came crashing down, an image of Toushirou looking up into the sky, just like she herself had done so many times while Orihime had been trapped in Hueco Mundo, came to the forefront of her mind. For just a second, time seemed to stop. But that second was all she needed to make her decision, and time rushed forward as the punch hit its mark, sending the arrancar and most of the alleyway a foot into the ground.

"That one was from Taichou," she spat into the flying debris, rolling her shoulder to loosen it up. "Nothing personal. But you bastards just don't know when to quit, so this next one…" Another shining light as she molded her reiatsu into a physical form, this time a larger, razor sharp cone. "This next one's from _me_."

She could make out Cuervo's outline in the settling dust, her scythe at the ready, and she was in no mood to wait until she could see more. Charging again, she ducked into the crater and aimed for the cruel arrancar's stomach. And when the woman moved to block, she didn't hesitate to plow right into her knee cap instead.

The arrancar let lose a blood-curdling shriek as her eyes widened in pain, though she remained upright despite all of the pressure Tatsuki had poured into the hit. The reiatsu cone disappeared from her knee cap, and blood flowed unrepentant from the now gaping hole. This time however, the arrancar knew what she was up against, and before Tatsuki could escape into the debris, she grabbed her by an unruly lock of hair.

"You little bitch!" the woman arrancar screamed as she yanked Tatsuki into the air, reveling in her obvious pain and shoving her head right up to the side of the curved scythe blades. "Let's see how you like it!"

The moment Tatsuki saw her reflection in the metal, everything changed. The world seemed to pull a one-eighty and rotate the opposite direction around her; oxygen was carbon dioxide, and carbon dioxide was oxygen; colors intermingled into a giant mass; and there was a gaping hole in her knee cap.

Pain hit her from every side as she stared disbelieving at the bloody limb. It was too much, too much pain dammit, and she collapsed to the ground, unable to hold herself up. She was losing blood so fast, pooling around her on the cold, hard ground. It was so damn cold, and it hurt, and she was going to die here.

She was going to die.

She couldn't save Orihime. She couldn't help Toushirou. She couldn't even breathe. And it was cold, and it hurt, and … and … it was slimy?

"Miss me, Tat-chan?"

The world's rotation righted itself, and Arisawa Tatsuki was lying on the ground, her knee intact. She was covered in something wet and gooey, and standing above her, zanpakutou locked with the arrancar's scythe, was Urahara Kisuke.

"Don't call me that, baka-jii!"

And completely ignoring the hysteric arrancar trying in vain to cut him down, he grinned at her before throwing a red, yoyo-like object down for her to catch. "Nice to have you back. Now be a good girl and toss that over to Inoue so that your real training can begin, ne, Tat-chan?

Wearily sitting up, she eyed the skull and crossbones painted on each side. "What's in it?"

Without missing a beat, he answered frankly, "I had Nel puke into them a few days back. You never know when it'll come in handy."

Something in the back of her mind made the very disturbing connection that the stuff she was coated in was likely from the same source, but she filed the thought away in her mental "just don't ask, seriously" cabinet and promptly lobbed the red object across the alleyway where it hit the wall above Orihime's head and sprayed the clear substance all over her friend. She couldn't remember ever being happier when Orihime's eyes returned to normal and blinked confusedly at the sight before her.

"Not now, Tat-chan," Urahara interrupted cheerfully, his zanpakutou still holding the woman at bay. "Your time would be much better spent preparing an attack while I hold her down, yes?"

Tatsuki's grin widened another notch.

"My pleasure."

* * *

Shihouin Yoruichi surveyed the damage they'd caused with a sigh, regretting having to shake up the storefront like this. But they really hadn't had much choice, so she supposed the fact that Urahara Shoten was in much better shape than the street in front of it was good enough for now. Reassured of their victory as she watched the giant arrancar (Albatros, was it? She hadn't been paying much attention during the introductions.), evaporate into the air - white feathers, mountainous body fat, and two deceitfully fast sickles all leaving this world for good – she finally turned her attention to the one who had made this little romp worth while.

Long teal lockes, determined gray eyes, and a body like a centaur.

"Well, now that was a surprise," she smirked.

And Neliel Tu offered her a small smile in return before she relaxed from her fighting stance and resealed Gamuza, revealing her original, full-grown arrancar form. "Me, or the other arrancar?" she asked lightly.

"Naw, the other guy wasn't the least bit interesting. What was that release of his again?"

"'Muelan, Gomelos de Acero,'" Nel repeated calmly.

Yoruichi smiled wide as she wrapped an arm around the other woman's shoulders. "I think that fits _us_ better, don't you?" she quipped playfully.

Nel Tu couldn't help but widen her smile as well, replacing her zanpakutou at her side. "He didn't stand a chance."

"Damn right! Now who's up for fish sticks?"

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One End

* * *

Spanish Index:

**Pavo Real** – Peacock

**Brille, Musa Vana** – Glisten, Vain Muse

**Cuervo** - Raven

**Engañe, Amante Oscura** – Deceive, Dark Lover

**Halcón **- Falcon

**Déspiertete, Jinete del Viento** – Awaken, Wind Rider

**Paloma** - Dove

**Suene, Príncipe de la Paz** – Ring (Sound), Prince of Peace

**Albatros** - Albatross

**Muelan, Gomelos de Acero** – Grind, Steel Twins

*Corrections in the Spanish courtesy of lonely_lycanth.


	23. Rosebud

So yeah. Here I am after three months. Lots of annoying stuff came up, but I finally got a break, so you guys get this. I've only got three things to say this time around. A) I hope Ichigo is characterized alright 'cause I had a whole lot of trouble with him and Rukia this time around. B) Here's to hoping you guys like Matsumoto's bankai. And C) People who have read all of my stories might recognize Hitsu's last resort; kudos to anyone who knows which fic I've used it in before.

Enjoy.

* * *

"_No, I guess Rosebud is just a ... piece in a jigsaw puzzle ... a missing piece."_

_Orson Welles, Citizen Kane_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Rosebud

* * *

Heavy breathing. In and out; in and out. It was all that met Hitsugaya's ears as he landed soundlessly by the cement sign where this whole mess had started. It was his own breathing, and it only reminded him of the fact that he couldn't hear Kurosaki Karin's.

Gently setting her limp body on the ground behind the sign, he took a spare second to make sure the ice glazed over her stomach was still intact. She'd live, for the moment. How long that moment would be, even he couldn't know.

A distinct cracking sound pulled him back to the situation at hand, and he shakily pulled himself back to his feet. Now able to look over the sign, his handiwork was more than obvious. Had he overdone it? The entire park was now a mass of giant, jagged icicles, whether they were hanging from trees or roofs or bursting upward from the ground. The whirlwind had been replaced by an unstable cylinder shooting upward into the air. It was this that the noise was emanating from, and Hitsugaya knew without a doubt that Buitre would soon free himself.

No backup had arrived, and Hitsugaya hadn't expected it to. Even as the icy cylinder shattered, he calmly lifted Hyourinmaru and called upon his bankai.

* * *

"What are you doing, Gin?"

Ichimaru didn't answer at first, cocking his head as he got a better look at the most prominent woman in his afterlife. "I'm jus' doin' what ya did, ne? Ya chose the little taichou ova me, so I chose the little taichou ova ya. I wasn' done playin' with 'im anyway."

"That's a load of bull," the Tenth Division fukutaichou countered in frustration. "Why would you of all people want to do this to Taichou?"

"The real question, Ran-chan, is why ya have ta ask. Ya know, yo' right; that really was bull. Ya never chose anyone at all, did ya? If ya had, ya would'a suspected me first. Ta assume ya know me so well, that's jus' wishful thinkin'."

Matsumoto couldn't believe what she was hearing. It wasn't so much that she couldn't believe Ichimaru would say such things; he'd always spoken like that, beating endlessly around the bush. What was so hard to believe was that, after all this time she'd spent idolizing him, Ichimaru Gin had finally been wrong. Maybe he was right that she shouldn't have to ask why, and maybe he was right that she didn't know him as well as she'd thought.

But to accuse her of being indecisive? After everything she'd done, she thought _he'd_ know _her_ better.

And there it was. She really didn't know him, did she? She was beginning to wonder if she ever had. Ichimaru hadn't _changed_. The man standing before her was the same that had saved her in Rukongai, that she had worked so hard to live up to in Seireitei, and that she had watched disappear into Hueco Mundo. They were all the same man, but they were not the man she thought they were. And that was the reason he was here now, to tell her so. To give her closure.

Ha ha. Now that was weird. Gin giving someone closure…? She didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Is it so wrong to wish for something?" she very nearly whispered, not willing to let this stranger know how close she was to tears.

"People only wish fer stuff they can' have, an' the only wishes that ever come true are the ones in fairy tales."

"…Really," Rangiku sighed, her tone defeated. "Then I guess … my only wish right now is that I could defeat you."

"Ain' no shootin' stars out tonight," he smiled the same old smile with a strange new glint to it. "Still wishin', Ran-chan?"

"It's the only thing you ever taught me to do."

In one fell swoop, Haineko was aimed at Ichimaru's chest, and without hesitation, Matsumoto called forth her bankai.

* * *

"It's not my fault, dammit!"

Kurosaki Ichigo was not pleased with the situation at hand. He was bruised; he was battered; and now Rukia was making him deaf too. Really. Yelling in someone's ear was the last thing a person should do when both people in question were hiding behind a building. It probably didn't help that he'd yelled back, but sometimes a guy's gotta stick up for himself, even against the angry shinigami lady mentor who was ten times older than him.

"Who's to blame doesn't matter. We need to find out how to get past that defense of his," Rukia scolded in return. Ichigo opened his mouth to protest when she whirled around to face him, violet eyes narrow and dangerous. "No, we are not going to charge in again. If it didn't work the first time, it's not going to work the second time!"

"That's not what I was going to say," the substitute shinigami valiantly defended himself.

"Do you have an idea then?" she cut him off.

"Uh … no."

"That's what I thought."

"Even the two of us together couldn't do anything!" Ichigo hissed in frustration. "It's like there's a sphere all around him and it's impossible to get through!"

"It's the scythe blades. The moment anyone enters that bubble, he can immediately stop them. Sode no Shirayuki doesn't freeze the target inside and out like Hyourinmaru; I can't stop his movements long enough for you to get in a fatal blow. Unless you can get in close enough without being detected, we don't stand a chance."

A loud crashing sound erupted down the block, and Ichigo cringed. The arrancar was getting closer. "What do you mean 'get in close enough?'"

"Don't you pay any attention?" the smaller shinigami huffed, smacking her taller ward upside the head. "That sphere you were talking about is how he senses attacks, even if he can't see them! If you'd been watching him while you were hacking away, you would have realized he knew every move you made and the width of the sphere allowed him time to block it easily!"

Ichigo mulled this over for all of two seconds. He was just about ready to ignore every word of warning that had come out of her mouth when an idea hit him. That seemed to be how it usually ended up, didn't it? Just when he was ready to push her aside, she always managed to scrounge up the exact kind of inspiration he needed.

"Oi, Rukia! If he can sense attacks does that mean … if I hid my reiatsu I could sneak into that sphere and get close enough for a surprise attack?"

"Hide your…? Don't be ridiculous, Ichigo! The day you can hide your reiatsu-"

"I can," Ichigo finally got his own chance to cut off his companion. At the sight of Rukia's stunned expression, he almost laughed. "Between you, Renji, Toushirou, and Getaboshi, did you really think I could spend all this time looking through your dumb romance novels? All of you have been bugging me about that crap, so … I fixed it."

"You fixed it," she repeated in disbelief. "Just like that?"

"…With a little help," he conceded, mind travelling back to a certain, less-than-pleasant conversation he'd had with a certain, less-than-pleasant shinigami taichou not so long ago.

For just one, perfect moment, Rukia's stunned expression molded itself into a prideful grin. And then she punched him in the nose.

"How dare you call my romance novels dumb! _Jane Eyre_ was a literary masterpiece! It said so on the cover!"

_The hell?!_ An arrancar was on its way over at that very moment, and she was punching him over some cheesy classic literature? "What the hell does it matter?!"

"I knew it! You just don't understand! Running off half-cocked with your big, ol' sword all the time! You wouldn't know how important it is to me! So just go ahead and do it again, why don't you?! Run off and be the big hero, and I'll beat this guy by myself!"

She'd officially lost her marbles. Shouting at the top of her lungs about things that didn't make a lick of sense. The random smashing of nearby street signs and fences had stopped, and Ichigo knew the arrancar had heard them arguing. It didn't make any sense! "But we just decided to-!"

"No! _You_ just decided! And I'm sick and tired of it! Don't hold yourself back because of me! Just go already!"

She glared him down, and those violet eyes held the promise of a zanpakutou in his gut if he didn't comply. And then those same eyes flitted for just a fraction of a second in the direction of the arrancar, and suddenly it all made sense.

"You think so?! Well, then maybe I will!"

With an angry huff, Ichigo whirled around, hands gripped tight around Zangetsu's hilt, and took off. Rukia watched until he was out of sight, and soon she couldn't even feel his reiatsu.

"Had a little lover's spat, did you?" The amused voice fluttered down from above, and Rukia jerked her head upward. "You shinigami sure are dumb."

Long, braided hair now a fan of feathers worthy of the regal peacock and red eyes peering playfully from behind a bony, white masque, the arrancar seemed more feminine than ever, looking for all the world like a costumed circus performer. This illusion was broken, however, by the deadly blades he held in each hand, fanned out like one would hold a hand of cards.

"Oh well. You win some, you lose some, right?" He shot the shinigami a warm smile. "After I kill you, I'll find him, and you guys can kiss and make up in your next lives, okay?"

Unwilling to give in to his taunting, Rukia only strengthened her stance. She had to wait for exactly the right moment. Grinning like a maniac, the arrancar charged forward, fanned out blades moving a mile a minute. It took everything she had just to block the curved, scythe-like blades, and she only managed to attempt one offensive swipe. As expected, he blocked it less than a second after it pierced that damn sensory bubble of his, but even though the attack didn't meet its mark, it still fulfilled its purpose. With the arrancar's full attention on her, she decided the right moment had come.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!" she shouted, the zanpakutou undergoing its beautiful transformation. "Next Dance, Hakuren!"

The wave of ice shot forward from her zanpakutou's blade. From that close range, there was no chance the arrancar could dodge, even if he knew it was coming. The ice overwhelmed him, completely coating him, an ice sculpture in midair. But even as the ice covered him, it was already breaking apart. There'd only be at the most a two second time interval to work with. Two seconds. So where the hell was-?

"Getsuga Tenshou!"

Oh. There he was.

The violet eyed shinigami didn't flinch as two enormous, crescent-shaped reiatsu blades burst past on either side of her head. The following surge of air blinded her for only a moment, but when the force calmed and she heard the unmistakable screaming, she knew the job had been done. The sight that met her first was blood. A fountain of it. The next was the image of the arrancar writhing in agony, minus two arms.

"Check it out, Rukia! I disarmed him!"

The teenaged redhead received no reply as Rukia calmly, elegantly, severed the arrancar's head from its shoulders, and all four pieces dropped toward the ground, disintegrating as they fell. She resealed and sheathed Sode no Shirayuki, and by the time she'd finished, Ichigo was by her side again.

"That was even cheesier than Renji."

"Someone had to say it."

"Let's get going. I can still feel Hitsugaya-taichou's released reiatsu."

Ichigo's eyes widened, and he nodded. Unwilling to waste another second, the two of them took off.

* * *

"So the kiddies are gone, huh?"

Urahara casually stretched out his shoulders before casting a glance down at the woman arrancar bleeding on the pavement. After Tat-chan had gotten a little payback, he had sent them running along. Orihime's talents would no doubt be needed. Besides, there was hardly any reason for them to stick around. Lovely Miss Cuervo would be dead shortly.

"The little princess and her knight in shining armor have other duties to attend to. You might want to save your breath for some less obvious observations. You don't have much left, after all."

"Au contraire, Kisuke-san," the arrancar replied, voice bordering on seductive. "I have all the breath I need. I'm glad I was the one who found you; I get to see your face when I give you Aizen-sama's message."

Oh. Well, that was rather unexpected. "…Aizen? Really now. What could he possibly have to say to little, old me?"

"He's curious about how you're taking all of this, you know. The little, dying taichou being forced out of Seireitei… Everyone's putting all of their faith in you … again."

"Do get to the point," the blond man suggested, emphasizing his feelings toward her chosen subject with a gentle tap of his sandal against her shredded ribs. She gasped in pain, but hastily recovered, locking eyes with the professed salesman.

"You felt him just now. Seireitei's going to be all over him by tomorrow. They know he's here, and they're going to come to collect. You're not going to give him up until he's a catatonic lump on the pavement, understand? The little brat may be Gin's toy, but _you're_ Aizen-sama's."

Urahara frowned, jaw set tight. "I don't follow Aizen's orders."

"That's rich! You're closer to Aizen-sama than I am!" the dying arrancar gurgled between ecstatic laughing fits. "You were the scapegoat; you gave him his tools! You'll do what he wants, just as you always do! Because you want to see it too, and you know it! You're just like him! And when you realize just how right I am, I'll be laughing at you from he-!"

She never finished. She couldn't, considering the fact that Benihime had been shoved between her teeth and right through the back of her throat. Kisuke pulled his zanpakutou lose, wiping off the blood on his jacket.

"Silly girl. No one laughs in hell."

* * *

Ichimaru Gin was no longer smiling.

Before him stood none other than Matsumoto Rangiku. Matsumoto Rangiku … with a bankai.

Haineko's blade had not dissolved into ash as it usually did, instead growing in length and gaining nine conspicuous notches lined up along its right side. The wind around them had begun to pick up, and, Ichimaru noted, the temperature was slowly rising. A trickle of sweat touching upon her brow told him how much effort it took her just to summon it. She couldn't have had it for longer than a few days.

It was clear to both of them that, no matter what abilities Rangiku had gained, she could not win against him.

"Now why'd ya go an' do somethin' like that? An' after everythin' the little taichou did ta keep ya safe too."

"I may not know you as well as I thought, Gin, but clearly you don't know me very well either," she countered, her tone unwavering and her eyes narrowed dangerously before all of her built up tension melted to make way for a sad smile. "I was never a very good listener."

Without another word, Matsumoto charged forward to swing Haineko vertically through Ichimaru's center. A flash, and Shinsou blocked the attack without any effort. But before he could push her away, the tip of Haineko's blade all the way to the first notch blew up in his face.

"One!" Rangiku shouted as she pulled away on her own. There was no dust or debris because they were too high for the secluded explosion to reach the ground, but what did obscure her vision was a great deal of ash and smoke. She hesitated for just a second, just long enough for the cloud of ash to thin enough to see through. Gin's silhouette darkened the particles before him, and she hastily shouted again. "Two! Three!" More segments of her zanpakutou separated from the rest as she slashed and slashed, all exploding upon impact with their designated target, erupting into more ashes. "Four! Five! Six!"

Damn! She didn't have the luxury of strategizing. She knew she could hold back until the last minute, charge the segments for larger explosions like she had while training with Taichou, but she just couldn't charge them long enough for a battle like this. Nothing was enough against Ichimaru Gin. Separate explosions wouldn't be good enough. Now that the element of surprise was gone, her only hope was to overwhelm him before he could react, igniting each segment of the blade with so little time in between that the explosions molded into one.

"Seven! Eight! Nine!"

This time she didn't wait for the sign of a silhouette. As soon as the last segment vanished, she raised the hilt into the air, and the giant visage of a tiger head appeared in the massive ash storm. "Umarekawari!"

The tiger opened its jaw wide and slammed it shut around its target before every individual ash in the cloud exploded.

Matsumoto's arms fell limp at her sides as she bent forward slightly, heaving long, heavy breaths. Please, oh please, let him be gone. _Please._ She watched the debris settle in exhausted anxiety. It was taking far too long.

Finally, the smoke began to thin, and she could once again make out a silhouette. She squinted, trying to see more detail, leaning further forward.

Then came the pain.

A familiar squelching sound met her ears, and, gray eyes wide in understanding, she slowly lowered her head to see the long, perfectly aimed zanpakutou spearing her right through the gold ringlet and down between her breasts.

"Ran-chan, Ran-chan. Yare, yare." Misted eyes flickered slightly before moving back up to meet her opponent as he sauntered forward, the tears in his uniform and a cut over his eye being the only signs he'd been attacked at all. "Those pretty boobs o' yours were meant fer better things than this. Why'd ya think I left ya behind in the first place?"

Before Rangiku could contemplate the meaning behind those words, he retracted Shinsou, snapping the golden ringlet from her neck. The pain burst anew, and it took everything she had not to double over. She didn't even notice that Haineko had reverted back to its sealed form. But if she had expected another blow, she was even more thrown off when Gin sheathed his blade at his side and walked past her.

She whirled around, confusion and frustration clear on her face even as her hand desperately clutched her wound. "What are you-?!"

He didn't turn around. "Are ya goin' ta help yo' little taichou, or are ya jus' goin' ta wish he could beat me too?"

A gasp, shuffling, a blade returning to its sheath.

And when Ichimaru finally turned around, she was gone.

* * *

This was not what he'd expected.

Sure, his reiatsu was running rampant, completely out of control, but that shouldn't have meant anything. His shikai and bankai should have just been the same as when he had no limiter. That was all there was to it. And yet, here he stood, only a few minutes into his bankai, and the lotus petals behind him were shattering at least three times the speed they should have been.

His reiatsu wasn't only beyond his control; it was slipping away before he could use it.

He didn't have enough time to defeat this arrancar. If he could just encase him with sennen hyourou the victory would be fairly easy, but as it was, only two petals remained. He didn't have the time nor could he hold onto his reiatsu long enough. Even the damn ryuusenka he'd attacked Buitre with hadn't worked to its full capacity, freezing only the arrancar's upper left abdomen. Shattering the frozen portion alone would rid him of his last two remaining lotus petals. At the very least, the bastard could only use one arm now, but that really wasn't a bright enough silver lining to boost Hitsugaya's morale. After all, he only needed one arm to swing that monstrosity around.

Forced from his analysis by the battle at hand, he folded a wing to block the oncoming ring and its deadly blades and opened it wide to set the weapon completely off course. Another petal shattered. That left only one.

Damn it! At this rate, he was done for. But he couldn't lose; he couldn't. Not with Kurosaki's sister in the condition she was in. The moment his bankai ceased functioning the ice holding her together would begin to melt. If he lost … and that damn arrancar was still around when it happened… No. He couldn't let it happen, and he wouldn't. He didn't have any choice. He'd have to use his final option.

His bankai was done for either way. Better to go out with a bang.

With that thought in mind, he returned his full attention to the battle. The vulture arrancar was pissed, and that last block seemed to have finally driven him over the edge. He ran blindly forward, and his unfrozen arm, talons and all, was ready to shred through Hitsugaya's face in an instant.

Before he had the chance, Hitsugaya finally twisted Hyourinmaru so that the flat side of the blade was facing up, and the frozen half of the arrancar's torso blasted apart. At the same time, the last petal broke apart as well, and the former taichou dredged up every ounce of surrounding water he could to fuel his unstable reiatsu.

A bright ball of reiatsu surrounded him in a brilliant, blinding cocoon, and as soon as it had condensed as far as it was able, it shot outward in a merciless wave, obliterating everything in its path.

The arrancar didn't stand a chance.

* * *

"Whoa! I didn't know he could do that!"

Ichigo and Rukia arrived just before the unexpected reiatsu explosion, and the substitute shinigami was pretty damn impressed. It didn't last long.

"That's because he can't."

He turned around just in time to see Matsumoto Rangiku step into shunpo and reappear next to Hitsugaya only a second before he fell into her outstretched arms.

"Taichou…?" Hyourinmaru had resealed itself, landing on the ground between them. The ice that had held his wounds at bay was gone, and he was bleeding freely into her shihakushou, a nasty shoulder wound from the looks of it. "Taichou!"

He coughed. "Kuro-" But as soon as he opened his mouth, the coughing got worse, and he quickly halted before deciding on a way to get his point across in fewer syllables. "Karin."

"Karin? Who's-?"

"Karin! What is she-?! Get Orihime over here _now_!"

"She's on her way! I'll bring her over!"

Rangiku still didn't a clue who they were talking about, but if Orihime was here, she was sure the situation would be resolved. "It's fine, Taichou. Inoue's helping right now. She's safe. But I can't say the same for you."

"It's … gone. Reiatsu," he hiccupped. If he hadn't been so obviously dazed, she might have thought the sound was funny. But when she thought about it, he was right. She couldn't feel his reiatsu. At all. It was just like when he'd been wearing Kisuke-jii's stupid dog collar.

She was already opening her mouth to tell him to shut up and conserve his energy, when he suddenly jerked, and she very nearly dropped him. "Hey! What're you-?!"

"Idiot."

It was then that she remembered his blood wasn't the only blood draining out all over her shihakushou right now. "It'll be fine," she stated curtly, as if the act of saying it made it so. "I'm more worried about you, Mr. I-Can't-Even-Stand-On-My-Own-Two-Feet."

"Told you. I'd choose … for you. Won't leave you behind … so … don't have to choose."

Their conversation earlier that day… When he'd asked her who she'd choose…

That sneaky, little brat! He asked an awful question like that, and she'd gotten so mad, she actually threatened him! And then now, when she was most worried about him, he just nonchalantly turned it around like this!? From "If you could only save one of us, which one would it be?" to "I refuse to die so that way you'll never have to make that choice." And he didn't say anything about it before he left! He just accepted her threat like he deserved it! She didn't know he had it in him to be so … so … _cheeky_!

"Hmph. You really are just a brat. Don't you remember? You already left me behind!" she scolded, but her rough tone didn't last long. "But I guess it doesn't really matter, does it? Even though I said that, I already chose. After all … you were the only one I followed."

But when she looked down, he had already passed out, and she could only sigh, grateful for every shallow breath she felt against her bosom.

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two End

* * *

**Umarekawari** – Rebirth; Reincarnation


	24. Rebound Reject

I don't even want to know how long it's been. But here you go. I will do my best to update the next chapter as soon as I can. Really. Honestly. Otherwise, I'm a horrible, horrible person.

* * *

"_At first cock-crow the ghosts must go_

_Back to their quiet graves below"_

_-Theodosia Garrison_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Rebound Reject

* * *

The echoing sound of slow applause permeated the silence as Ichimaru Gin turned around and smirked at his audience. Aizen's warm smile met him, and after one last resounding clap of his hands, the ruler of Hueco Mundo stepped out from the shadows.

"So?" Ichimaru prodded, already knowing the answer to his own question just from seeing that maleficent glint in his taichou's eyes. "Did'ja see what ya wanted ta see?"

"It was indeed quite a sight, Gin. I especially enjoyed your role," returned the cunning retort.

Ichimaru's smile didn't waver, but his tone grew eerily cold. "Oh, but Aizen, I wasn' even part o' the cast."

"Don't be trite with me. You _were_ the cast," Aizen Sousuke easily brushed him aside. "And you played your puppets well. While you enjoyed your time with the living, Kaname paid a visit to the dead. I've planted my seed in both realms. My war is ready to begin."

"Is'sat so?" Gin eyed the powerful man whom he called his taichou, the man whom he fully expected to win, and he smirked.

"Yes, it is. Do you know what that means?"

"Yare, yare," Ichimaru trailed off, making his way out the same way Aizen came in. "Do ya even hafta ask?"

But just before he was able to leave, Aizen made his move as he so often did. "Oh, and Gin," he intoned sweetly, "Hitsugaya-kun's last technique…"

"Ain't got nothin' ta do with that pretty dragon o' his. He jus' condensed all his reiatsu 'til it exploded."

"Imploded, Gin," Aizen interrupted. "It did not explode; it imploded. The part that seemed like an explosion was nothing but a shock wave."

"Still went 'boom,'" the silver haired fox chuckled wryly.

"I must admit, it's quite a feat; for him to accomplish something like that…"

"Well, he doesn' have as much reiatsu as the other taichou, ne? Not as much ta condense," Ichimaru replied, knowing exactly where this was going. He could try to change the topic, but it would be a useless effort, so he just pushed it right along, feigning ignorance and saving himself the effort.

"It has nothing to do with the amount of reiatsu, Gin. It has everything to do with the control he has over it, even in this state in which he should not be able to have that control." Aizen's smile grew decidedly more malignant. "If he is able to take a large amount of reiatsu and condense it into nothing, I wonder if he can also take no reiatsu and expand it into a large amount, hm…?"

Aizen didn't wait for an answer. He already knew that Gin had left the room.

* * *

"Aizen's done playing around. That game is over and done with."

Urahara Kisuke was sitting at his kitchen table, looking at his guest with a seriousness and finality that he did not often show. He removed the hat from his head, frowning at the rim for a moment before he was interrupted.

"But the kid…" Isshin began, just as serious.

"Hitsugaya is Ichimaru's game, Isshin. He was never Aizen's. I was Aizen's game."

"I thought you said you just happened to be in the way," the other man persisted.

Urahara offered a none-too-pleasant smile. "No one gets in Aizen's way unless he wants them to."

"And Aizen's game…?"

"I've done it again. Every time I drop everything. It's how he controls me, how he controlled Hitsugaya. Because we always do the same thing. Perhaps this time I should do something different…. After all, a toy should do its best to remain entertaining."

"No. You will do the same. You will always do the same." Both Kisuke and Isshin turned to the apron-toting man standing in the corner of the room. "And that is why we will always aid you."

"Tessai…" A snort as Kisuke promptly replaced the hat atop his head. "You would help me stall a shinigami taichou or two just to give a brat a few extra hours to regain his reiatsu before his head explodes?"

"Oh, Kisuke. You ever thought differently?" Isshin chuckled. "That 'brat' of yours protected my daughter. I'd gladly hold off the entire Gotei 13 if that was what it would take."

Tessai nodded.

And Kisuke laughed. "I'm surrounded by enablers!"

"You haven't changed at all. Still blaming everyone else, huh?" Isshin taunted playfully.

"If men are creatures of habit, then I suppose shinigami are creatures of obsession."

"Then I take it your appetite hasn't changed either."

Urahara paused for just a second, his body stilled.

"_Fine," Hitsugaya finally sighed. "If that's what it takes to satiate a hunger like yours."_

_Urahara found this answer genuinely intriguing. "And what sort of hunger is that?"_

_It was a while before Hitsugaya replied, but when he did Urahara could hardly believe his own ears. "I suppose it's the sort that refuses to cease until everyone else has had their fill."_

And suddenly he couldn't hold back a genuine smile. "I'm _famished_."

* * *

Rangiku hadn't left the room since they'd brought her taichou into it. Why did this have to happen so damn much anyway? After almost every fight, once his bankai was done for, so was he. It was like clockwork. And, like clockwork, here she was, ranting about it.

"You just never know when to quit, do you?" she huffed, taking the chance to scold him while he was unconscious and couldn't nag her for it. "You always go over your limit every damn time, and you never think of the consequences until you're a bloody heap all over the ground! But by now I'm sure you're plenty used to it, so don't you dare try to use this as an excuse not to come back to the Tenth. I've threatened to be the fukutaichou from hell before, and I can do it again. Just you watch, I'll-"

The frustrated woman halted midsentence when she caught a look at her taichou. He was still lying in the same position, still covered by those blankets, eyes still closed … but he was smirking. _Smirking._

"Something funny?"

"Didn't want to interrupt," he replied without skipping a beat.

His voice was hoarse, but it was there. What was more surprising was what wasn't there. There was no frustration, no contempt, no criticism, not even any sarcasm. It was … almost as if he'd _intended_ to be funny. But that was just ridiculous! …Right?

"Once a brat, always a brat, ne Taichou?" she chided, plopping down on the side of the bed. When the mattress jumped just a fraction, and Hitsugaya's brow twitched at the word "brat," she felt she'd been rightfully avenged. "You're … okay?"

"Not really."

"Kisuke wouldn't let Inoue anywhere near you, so we dressed your wounds as well as we could," the busty woman explained, brass brows furrowed as her eyes scanned her taichou and his reaction.

He only sighed. "About that…"

"So now you're going to tell me everything? Now that I can't do anything to help? Now it's safe for me to know?"

"…I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough!"

She watched as those half-lidded eyes widened in surprise. He rarely ever apologized for anything important. To be told it wasn't enough must have been a shocker, but she wasn't done yet.

"From the very beginning, you've done nothing but hide the most important information from me! I'm not going to just forgive you for that, no matter what reasons you had. First you have to promise me that you'll never keep a secret from me ever again."

"Matsumoto…" he began in a scolding tone, but she wasn't going to hear it.

"Never again."

"That's-!" And then he stopped, looking up at her in either recognition or confusion; she couldn't tell which. "You already know."

"I beat it out of Kisuke after my little chat with Ichimaru."

He must have caught that she didn't call him Gin because instead of trying to overexert himself and go after the traitorous bastard, he only slumped back down into the bed. "What did he do?"

"Nothing much," she shrugged. If Taichou didn't remember the state she'd been in when she caught up to him, she wasn't going to remind him. "He just … let me be the one to walk away this time."

Silence. Then: "Fine. No more secrets."

"Yay! Hugs!"

And before her superior officer could react, she'd enveloped him in cleavage. The struggling was instantaneous, muffled curses about his being injured only giving her reason to hold tighter. He was still there; her Taichou was still there. Even if she couldn't feel his reiatsu, he was still there.

"M-MATSUMOTO! I CAN'T BREATHE!"

Finally, she released him, still laughing her head off at her victory. But the shouting didn't go unnoticed, and only moments later, the door to the room opened, revealing a widely grinning Kurosaki Isshin.

"Oh! He's awake!" the elder Kurosaki chimed just as cheerfully as Matsumoto. "This calls for a celebration!"

"With ice cream sundaes!" the excited fukutaichou added.

"And amazing scenery!"

"I know just the place! You just have to eat sundaes at the beach!"

"I'll get the kids and the car!"

"I'll get Renji and the towels!"

And as the two bustled out the door, still chattering away at the top of their lungs, Hitsugaya was left to stare blankly at the now empty room.

"…What just happened?"

Twenty minutes later, two cars full of several high school students, a few shinigami, two arguing children, and a burly man in a green wetsuit and apron took off for the beach, kidnapping an injured former Tenth Division taichou along for the ride.

* * *

When Kuchiki Byakuya and Zaraki Kenpachi stepped through the senkaimon into the sky above Karakura, they were more than a little surprised by the one who had come to greet them.

"Long time no see, Byakuya, Kenpachi," Isshin, clothed in his shihakushou and once more out of gigai, nodded.

"You would end up here, wouldn't you?" the stoic Sixth Division taichou replied, contempt replacing shock as soon as he was able to cloak his emotions again. "The substitute shinigami…"

"…Is my son."

"And Hitsugaya Toushirou…?"

"Do you feel his reiatsu anywhere?" Isshin picked up with an innocent smile.

"That means nothing."

Their greeter sighed, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish shrug. Byakuya was as focused as ever, and Kenpachi just looked bored. He was probably disappointed that Isshin was displaying no intent to fight. "If you insist, why don't we discuss the situation at Kisuke's, ne? He's fixing tea as we speak."

* * *

It wasn't hard to figure out their motives.

Hitsugaya was still wounded. His shoulder and back hurt like hell, and he was exhausted. They must have known that much, and yet the moment he awoke, they had carted him off, injuries and all, to the beach of all places.

They wanted him away from Karakura. There was no way in any of the worlds that Seireitei hadn't felt his reiatsu burst back to life. The larger the group, the less chance anyone had of identifying any particular shinigami reiatsu signature. Urahara Kisuke had even sent those brats and Tessai along in case of a worst case scenario.

In short, they were stalling for him. They were protecting him.

A few days ago, he would have felt insulted at the idea. Now he wasn't sure what to think. So he just watched the waves from his perch upon a cluster of rocks, letting his legs hang limply over the edge.

He didn't know what day it was. Somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten. From the emptiness of the beach, he assumed it was still a weekday, but none of the people who had dragged him along seemed to care, intermingling with each other and the waves and taking a small moment to enjoy a small victory. It took him a few minutes to realize Matsumoto wasn't among them. But before he could debate whether he should look for her, he felt her coming up behind him, an ice cream sundae in each hand.

"Taichou!" she smiled as she sat down beside him. "This one's for you, and this one's for me. Mizuiro paid for them both! Can you believe it?"

A single, white brow rose as he eyed his fukutaichou up and down, and without a word he accepted the sundae. Yes, he could believe it.

"You agreed to no more secrets. So I've got a few questions, okay?"

He sighed but gestured for her to continue with his spoon.

"Your reiatsu. It feeds on your reiatsu, right? So as long as you don't have any, you're safe. But-"

"But I should be dead?" he finished for her. "It's not that my reiatsu's vanished, Matsumoto. I just … managed to control it, in a way."

"And…? There's always an 'and' or a 'but' with you."

Hitsugaya snorted through a small bite of ice cream. "It does feed off of reiatsu but not just my own. And when I condensed my reiatsu, I condensed it into two separate segments. I only set off one of them." He could see realization creeping up on Matsumoto's features and quickly continued. "I can only hold it in that state for so long before I'll be forced to gradually expand it once more; the result won't be the same as with Buitre so long as I let the reiatsu expand piece by piece. But-"

"Here it comes," Matsumoto half chuckled, still looking a bit apprehensive but obviously trying to hide it. "The 'but.'"

He pretended not to hear her. "But as soon as I expand enough of it, the dormant effects will likely take hold all at once."

"In other words, you're fine for as long as you can keep your own reiatsu at bay. How many hours?"

She was asking in hours. Not days, not weeks, but hours. He grimaced. She knew exactly what he was talking about. "Five, at the most."

"Then what?"

"I don't know," he sighed. "Ichimaru seemed adamant that at the end, we would confront each other, but I don't know whether I can trust him or not. Or even if he simply changed his mind."

Matsumoto was quiet for all of two minutes before she suddenly stood up. Hitsugaya only had time to give her a quizzical look, and then he was being dragged by the wrist across the rock face. It was easy enough to balance himself, but the ice cream sundae was teetering precariously in his hand with every hop-step they took until they were down on the sand once more, on the opposite side of the rock face from the others.

"Matsumoto!"

But she refused to stop, pulling him across the sand and into the tide until the waves reached his knees. Finally she let go of his wrist and shoved him backward, sundae and all, into an oncoming wave.

Wide-eyed, soaking wet, sitting next to an empty sundae bowl, and confused as never before, the former Tenth Division taichou could only stare at his fukutaichou as if his entire world had just turned purple. And then, of all things, Matsumoto laughed. She laughed her heart out, just standing there in the tide while another wave washed over him.

"Oh, Taichou! If only you could see your face! You look like a drowned puppy!"

"Wh-What the hell was that for?!" he sputtered, salt water spraying from his lips. "Matsumoto, if you-!"

She reached out her hand.

Hitsugaya quieted, staring suspiciously at it for a moment before reaching up to grasp it. The busty woman pulled him back up, brushing some of the sand from his back and rear end. She was careful around his wounds, likely checking to make sure her stupidity hadn't worsened them.

"No matter what happens," she whispered firmly from next to his ear, "just remember that I'll always be waiting right here to pull you back up, okay? Always."

Well, that was…

He pulled away from her, doing his best to get the rest of the clinging sand off of his wet limbs himself. "Of course. Anything less would be unacceptable," he huffed. "There has to be some reason you're still my fukutaichou, after all. You certainly don't earn your keep in the office."

"But Taichou! That's so mean! I'm just not the type of person who works well in cramped places! If you'd just let me take you to that spa again, I'm sure-!"

"Matsumoto," he interrupted. "I was going to thank you. Don't push your luck."

She grinned. "You missed a spot, on the side of your left leg." He could hear her giggling as he reached down to remove the sand there as well. "You're welcome, Taichou! Anytime!"

And as she began to walk back over toward the rocks, he couldn't suppress the smallest of twitches at the edge of his lips, curling his mouth into something that could only have been a genuine smile.

That was kind of … nice.

"Oh, Taichou! I almost forgot!" The smile vanished as she turned around again. It was difficult to see her as the same person she'd been a few seconds ago with a spoonful of ice cream crammed into her mouth. "I took you to the beach, so you owe me!"

"Matsumoto, you didn't do a thing. You didn't even pay for the sundaes."

"You owe me!" she shouted again, firmly. "So when this is all over, you're taking me somewhere in Seireitei! Got it!"

"On one condition," he huffed as he caught up to her.

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Shut your mouth when you're eating."

"But! Taichou!"

"Oi, Toushirou, Rangiku!"

The two shinigami whirled around to see Kurosaki Ichigo atop the rocks, waving his arm at them. "C'mon! You have to see this! Rukia's trying to make a sand Chappy! It's hilarious!" he cracked up. Just as he'd finished, a large projectile came out of nowhere, sailing through the air at high speeds before connecting with the side of Kurosaki's skull and sending him right back down to the sand below.

Hitsugaya and Matsumoto exchanged glances.

"Was that a flying sea shell?"

"A conch. It was well aimed. Kuchiki's been practicing."

"Well, you've got about four and a half more hours. Wanna go see?"

Hitsugaya was quiet for a moment before answering. "Yeah. Let's."

And the two of them made their way over the rocks without a care in the world.

* * *

They parked a fair distance from Urahara Shoten upon their return, having to walk the rest of the way. A few of the others had been dropped off along the way, so the group now consisted of Kurosaki, Kuchiki, Abarai, Matsumoto, himself, and Tessai with the two brats. It still felt too large for the young shinigami and he stayed to the back during their quiet walk.

A single bead of sweat made its way down his now dry forehead and into his eye, and he frowned as he rubbed it, trying not to get any sand in the eye as well. It had been nearly six hours since he'd said he could hold his reiatsu in for five at most. He could tell by the way Matsumoto would keep moving closer and closer to him every ten minutes or so. But they were only about five minutes away from that crazy man's storefront. He could manage that long at least. Just five more damned minutes.

It was two minutes later that Tessai stopped, and Kuchiki Rukia's eyes widened in shock.

"Nii-sama! That's Nii-sama's reiatsu! And Zaraki-taichou! What are they doing here?!"

"Don't look at me!" Kurosaki countered to the smaller woman, even as he immediately turned back to face Hitsugaya. "Oi, Toushirou…"

No answer.

Now everyone was staring at him, but he didn't seem to notice. He was staring at something on his finger. Something red.

Matsumoto was frantic. "Someone get Urahara! Now! Run, dammit! Forget Kuchiki, just-!"

But before she could finish, the young shinigami let out a choking sound and hastily reached for his head. He looked for all the worlds like he was about to explode. Tessai sent Ururu and Jinta both running to Urahara Shoten, and just as he turned to see the sight himself, Hitsugaya did just that.

The reiatsu he'd still managed to keep condensed shot outward in a miniature shockwave, and several cuts appeared out of nowhere on his body, as if his blood was simply bursting outward with his reiatsu.

Every raw nerve felt as if it had been hit with a hammer.

He didn't even feel himself collapse. He just knew he did.

Shouting became a cloud of whispers. The world became a misty, ethereal haze.

And then…

Nothing.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Three End_


	25. Back Stage Backtrack

I've had more than one person ask me this question, so I thought it best to answer it here in case there are more people who are confused. It's rather important in this chapter. The reason Urahara insisted that Orihime not heal Hitsugaya is the same reason that Unohana wouldn't be able to help. Reiatsu, no matter whose it is, inflames Hitsugaya's symptoms. In other words, if Orihime tried to heal him, he'd get worse before he got better because he'd be surrounded by a strong, penetrating reiatsu source. That's also the reason Hitsugaya didn't tell Ichigo about it. Ichigo has a large amount of reiatsu that he can't or doesn't hold back and therefore is a large part of the reason Hitsugaya's two months was cut short.

Special thanks to toPod. Your review was extremely insightful and thought out, a more indepth review than I've ever written for sure, and really motivated me to get back to writing this thing, even though I didn't have the time to follow through until now. Thank you to all of my other reviewers too. I'm kind of amazed that I still have any.

I hope you all enjoy. I doubt it's worth the time it took to get this out, but if all goes according to plan the next chapter should be up in a week or two rather than in another seven or eight months. We all know that's the chapter you want to see.

* * *

"_Thus are we wholly stripped of pride_

_In the pain that has but one close_

_Bearing it crushed and mystified"_

_The Trial by Existence, Robert Frost_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Back Stage Backtrack

* * *

He wasn't supposed to be in Soul Society.

It took everything in Matsumoto Rangiku's power to not explode in the face of every innocent passerby unfortunate enough to exist in her presence. But she refrained. She refrained for the sake of the fragile figure laying prone in the Fourth Division infirmary bed in front of her. She couldn't afford to get into more trouble. It was only out of dumb luck that she and the others were allowed to stay in her Taichou's room at all.

Kuchiki-taichou and Zaraki-taichou had arrived on the scene no more than a minute after Hitsugaya had collapsed. Zaraki had carried him with uncharacteristic gentleness, but it was clear that there would be violence if they didn't cooperate with the two captains. Her Taichou was more of a hostage than anything else. Rangiku, Renji, Rukia, and Ichigo all followed them back to the Seireitei, and now they were under house arrest, not allowed to take even one step out of Unohana-taichou's sight.

But Unohana-taichou was staying in Hitsugaya's room, going so far as to have her division members report to her and receive assignments in the room so that she wouldn't have to leave. And by extension, neither would they. Rangiku would have to buy her something very, very expensive very, very soon, but for the moment, she was too upset, too concerned, and too scared to give the healer proper thanks.

They hadn't even had the chance to return to Urahara Shoten. Kuchiki-taichou had simply summoned a hell butterfly right where they'd met. Rangiku had seen how quickly Hitsugaya's already pale features whitened the moment they returned to Seireitei. Cold sweat had mixed with blood, a liquid mahogany tainting his pores. But still, the young taichou hadn't moved, hadn't cried out, hadn't so much as twitched a brow in his daze. Those teal-green eyes, half-lidded yet devoid of life, frightened Matsumoto Rangiku far more than she ever thought possible.

She'd been frantic when they first led him into the room, shouting more orders than Unohana-taichou herself, pushing aside anyone who tried to ask her questions. Ichigo, Rukia, and Renji had had to explain the situation in her stead, interrupting each other in attempts to fill the gaps and just generally not making much sense. If she'd been less consumed with her captain, she might have realized she was doing more harm than good, but she already had two captains down for the count on her record. Like hell she was going to add a third.

Zaraki-taichou had hightailed it out of there the moment Hitsugaya hit the bed, but Kuchiki-taichou had stayed. Rangiku still wasn't sure whether that made her feel better or just pissed her off even more. She'd watched from Hitsugaya's bedside as he joined Unohana-taichou and the others near the doorway. For him to look at her Taichou with that never-changing condescending air, only to turn to Rukia and Renji, explain their status in as few words as possible, and wash his hands of the matter in such a superior way...

"He brought it upon himself."

Kuchiki-taichou had taken the time to give them the information they needed, to give Hitsugaya some sort of well wishes when so few of the captains wanted to or were able. But she just couldn't accept the way he brushed her Taichou aside, as if his compatriot meant nothing more to him than the subtext of his most recent orders. Only Kuchiki-taichou's rank kept her from shouting a piece of her mind.

"Chill, Rangiku."

Kurosaki seemed to have abandoned the effort of informing Unohana-taichou, stepping up beside the buxom blonde as Kuchiki-taichou left. He was slouching a little, his voice surprisingly quiet and level. And Rangiku was forced to realize that everyone else was as bothered about this as she was, whether she wanted to see it or not.

"He didn't mean it like it sounded," the teenager continued as he lifted a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "It's just ... Toushirou would rather have it be his choice, right? Nobody else made him do it."

"That's not-"

"So all he has to do now is get himself out of it."

Her overflowing adrenaline had already begun fading once Hitsugaya had been placed in that bed, and at those words it evaporated completely out of her reach. She slumped into the closest chair, ample assets pressing against the rise of the seat as her arms wrapped around the top.

"You guys are no fair. None of you. How do you always get away with this crap?"

The sheepish grin Ichigo offered her only seemed to put her less at ease. "Tell you what, next time you two can trade places." Idiot. He was trying way too hard.

She waved her hand in his direction before dropping it back onto the chair, and when she spoke next her tone was nonchalant and uninterested. She could do this, and she didn't need a kid babysitting her while she did. "I'd have to be dead drunk before I could suffer the paperwork hell I'd get for _that_. I'll be fine. Go on back to your comedy duo. They'll need someone to remind them to stop finishing each other's sentences before Unohana-taichou tells them herself."

"Actually, you're the only one she still wants to talk to, Rangiku-chan."

Ichigo and Rangiku both jumped at the unexpected voice, but before Rangiku could turn to meet it, two firm hands planted themselves atop her shoulders. Ukitake Jyuushirou smiled warmly down at her as she leaned her head back to see him. It wasn't a big smile, but it wasn't any less compassionate for it.

"It's been a long time."

Rangiku nodded, tried to return the smile. It didn't work out very well.

"Go on," Ukitake encouraged, pulling lightly at her shoulders until she was standing again. "I'll watch over him for a bit. I'd like to speak privately to him anyway."

She could only sigh, energy depleted as she looked to the make-shift paper divider blocking her vision of the corner of the room that Unohana-taichou had claimed as her own.

Captains and lieutenants were almost always treated to larger suits in the Fourth Division, not only because of their rank but because it made them less likely to walk out the door and leave right away. Not that Hitsugaya Toushirou could do anything of the sort as he was now, let alone appreciate the expanse of space.

Rangiku was quick to pass through the thin material separating the room into two sections, not bothering to close it behind her, and plopped down into a seat once more. Ichigo leaned against the back of the chair, only half paying attention, constantly letting his gaze wander back to Ukitake-taichou and Hitsugaya. Contrary to how she'd described them earlier, however, Rukia and Renji were the epitome of focus. Renji was to her left and Rukia to her right, both waiting for her to fill the gaps in their story with even more eagerness than Unohana-taichou.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou," the captain of the healing division began, but Rangiku interrupted before she could say another word.

"I know what you want to ask. Taichou told me just today. During the fight with the Raptores, he condensed his reiatsu into two parts. He released one on the Raptor, and kept the other condensed within his body to ward off the end-stage symptoms as long as possible. When he expanded his reiatsu, the symptoms hit him all at once."

Rangiku's straight-forward report brought a small smile to Unohana's lips, in great contrast to the room's other occupants. "Matsumoto-fukutaichou, I knew that much. What I wanted to ask you was whether he told you of Ichimaru's intentions."

The Tenth Division fukutaichou was stumped for all of thirty seconds before that small smile grew a notch and she realized she had better get moving or else. "He didn't know what Ichimaru wanted out of it. Just that ... Ichimaru said they wouldn't face off until the end," she relayed, anxiety apparent. "Apparently, Ichimaru's already lied to him about it though."

Unohana Retsu nodded knowingly. "I'm afraid there is not a great deal I can do for him. I don't believe Ichimaru was lying about the way he intends to end it however. Wherever Hitsugaya-taichou's mind is, it is not in his head." At the horrified look on Rangiku's face, the healer raised a hand and clarified. "He's not completely gone. I only mean that he's not sleeping, but he's not in Hyourinmaru's inner world either. Rather, I'm worried he may not be able to reach Hyourinmaru's inner world. I cannot feel that connection between them; I haven't been able to since he was brought in."

That did not sound good at all. But when Matsumoto thought back on it, it made disturbing sense. Renji, however, and not Rangiku was the first one to voice those sentiments out loud. "Come to think of it, I never saw him talk to Hyourinmaru while he was there."

"Not even when he was helping me with Haineko," Rangiku confirmed, biting her lip. She shifted in her seat. Hitsugaya probably hadn't been trying to hide it, or he would have done a better job. He may not have even tried to enter his inner world if he thought Hyourinmaru was the one who didn't want to communicate. "But what does that have to do with what's happening now?"

"If only Hitsugaya-taichou himself was not able to control his reiatsu, Hyourinmaru might have been able to help. Ichimaru Gin must have been covering his tracks. Severing that link left Hitsugaya-taichou still able to use his reiatsu and to feel Hyourinmaru's presence but cut off the connection between the two elements," Unohana Retsu clarified, a thin frown growing across her face. "But from what I've heard, it sounds as if Hitsugaya-taichou should have lost his ability to perform either feet by now."

Rangiku nodded. "Taichou said that any reiatsu made the symptoms worse, and he had almost no control over his own. That was why Kisuke-jii gave him the collar."

"That makes no sense! He had to have had perfect control over his reiatsu in order to win that battle against the Raptor!" Rukia hastily interrupted. "Let alone to reign his reiatsu in after the fight."

Ichigo was grinning. "So he beat the system. He's a tough kid."

"Ichigo! You don't understand!" By this point, the petite shinigami was on her feet, nearly ready to throttle the teenager, and he was fully prepared to counter her.

"Hitsugaya-taichou had no control over his reiatsu until that battle. In other words, he found a way to regain a sense of which he had lost control," Unohana spoke up then. Her frigid smile had both Rukia and Ichigo behaving again in seconds. It also had everyone taking a moment to truly digest those words.

"What're you trying to say?" Renji yet again broke the silence.

"She's saying Hitsugaya-taichou may have found a way around Aizen's hypnosis."

Rukia's answer had even Ichigo surprised, but Matsumoto Rangiku was not impressed. How had the topic changed so quickly? How had the focus been so abruptly sidetracked? "That won't do us any good if he _dies_ before Aizen's next strike," the woman hissed, glaring at the others as if her friends had suddenly become the monsters they all strove to fight together.

The guilty, uncomfortable looks on their faces did nothing to sway her. This was her Taichou. Aizen could wait. Ichimaru could wait. Everyone else in all the worlds could wait. Her Taichou was in trouble. She didn't even know if he'd wake up. She may never hear that frustrated scolding again, or those few and far between compliments when she exceeded expectations, or even those all-purpose grunts and groans that he saved just for her. She may never see that expectant glare or that haughty blush.

"Before we can ask anything of Taichou, we have to help him."

From there the conversation grew much more subdued. Ichigo drifted away from it gradually, while Ukitake-taichou had left Hitsugaya's side and joined in for a short while. Like Kuchiki-taichou though, he had to leave. Kyouraku-taichou had taken over his duties temporarily, which meant he had to return to them before Nanao worked herself to death.

There would be a captain's meeting in a few hours.

Just the thought caused goosebumps to ride their way up Rangiku's arms.

In the end, they got nowhere. Unohana-taichou nor anyone in her division could perform a healing. None of them could know what Hitsugaya-taichou might need without asking him. Unohana-taichou could only guess where Hitsugaya's mind was and seemed to be of the opinion that he was simply in limbo, nowhere at all. They could only rehash the same facts and figures and try to connect them in a way that made some semblance of sense.

Once she hit that roadblock, Unohana-taichou had promptly told her to just stop thinking.

It was then, when Rangiku was at her lowest point - hoping less for a good outcome and more for something that was just different, anything different - that Ichigo's voice penetrated the melancholy with a booming exclamation.

"Oi, Toushirou! Great! I thought you might've died!"

"It's Hitsugaya-taichou!"

The moment she heard that tired correction - just as loud and twice as demanding as Ichigo - Rangiku leaped to her feet, following him to the boy captain's bedside.

And there she stopped dead.

Hitsugaya was already hauling himself out of the bed, and the moment he stood up, all of Rangiku's hopes were instantly dashed. When just a second ago, he'd seemed back to his old self, now he was clutching his head, mouth open in a silent scream of pain. He should have known better! _She _should have known better!

"What is he doing on his feet? He could kill himself!"

Unohana-taichou was rushing forward now, followed by the other occupants of the room, even two attendants who'd been passing by. Rangiku and Ichigo were the closest by far, and without even a thought, they each grabbed one arm.

Skin grasped skin, and that silent scream became a very, very loud one.

They wrestled him back into the bed as he kicked and hollered, and she swore she was going to cry because he looked like he was in so much pain, and then Unohana was in between them, and Ichigo was pulling her away, and her Taichou kept screaming and screaming and screaming, until he just stopped, and she didn't even realize she had vomit on her shihakushou until Rukia tried to clean it off.

Hahah.

Wasn't that how this whole thing had started?

Vomit on her shihakushou.

"Matsumoto-fukutaichou!"

"Oi, Rangiku!"

And after he puked all over her, he'd go talk to Ichimaru.

"C'mon! We can't have you zoning out on us too!"

"_Wherever Hitsugaya-taichou's mind is, it is not in his head."_

"Rangi-!"

She grabbed Renji's shoulders, eyes wide in realization as she met the redhead's surprised stare.

"Ichimaru's inner world! That's how Ichimaru talks to him, how he keeps him out of Hyourinmaru's dimension! He's in Ichimaru's inner world!"

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do about it?"

"Move."

Rangiku and Renji instantly did as instructed, and Unohana Retsu pushed her way past them with a tub of water. The sight was unexpected. Unohana-taichou didn't do that sort of thing; that was a task for shinigami of much lower rank. Apparently, at some point while she'd been zoning out the other Fourth Division shinigami had been ushered out of the room (because they couldn't hide their reiatsu like captains could?). The woman healer set the tub down on the ground, pulled a cloth out of it, wrung it, set it on his forehead, and proceeded to release her reiatsu into his body.

The entire room went deathly quiet for all of a second. Then all hell broke loose.

"What the hell are you-?"

"Are you trying to kill him?"

"Unohana-tai-!"

"Be quiet."

She was obeyed.

Her hands moved with expert ease over the boy captain's still frame even as she spoke. "What did Ichimaru Gin say about how this would end?"

Rangiku gulped. "A fight. He said they wouldn't fight until the end."

"If Hitsugaya-taichou has already been taken to Ichimaru's inner world, we must sever the connection between his mind and his body as quickly as possible. That is probably what Hyourinmaru has been trying to do all along. The fastest way to do that is to put the body in a different state than the mind."

"Why?" Ichigo demanded as he took a defiant step forward, not quite as thoroughly trained as everyone else in the room to hang off of Unohana Retsu's every word as if it were the sole truth of the universe.

"Kurosaki," she said sweetly, "if Hitsugaya-taichou is injured within his mind, what do you think will happen to his body?"

"You're ... going to kill him in order to keep him alive?"

"Yes, I am."

Silence.

Then: "I'll replace the cold water."

* * *

It was hard to breathe. It was hard to do much of anything. He wasn't even sure he was standing. His legs felt like just holding up the weight of his body was turning them numb with exertion.

It was too abrupt a change, to switch from that excruciating pain to this overwhelming numbness.

He didn't even notice Ichimaru Gin's approach, too absorbed in making sure he kept breathing, kept standing, kept calm. Oh please, please, stay calm. He couldn't afford to panic. Not when he could barely feel his legs.

"Miss me?"

Finally, he focused his vision, slowly letting his line of vision move upward. He met Ichimaru's gaze head on, those slitted neon orbs dripping with anticipation. He didn't answer. Instead, he narrowed his own eyes, grinding his teeth in frustration. Stay calm, stay calm. So long as he didn't move too much, he could keep his balance. So long as he didn't look away from that piercing stare, he would know exactly where Ichimaru was.

"Ya never do. Ya know, little taichou, that's always been a problem fer ya." The sinister smirk opened wider. "Ya always had a way with makin' people feel unwanted."

He took another step closer; Hitsugaya didn't move. He waited for an answer; Hitsugaya refused to give him the satisfaction. He drew Shinsou from his waste; Hitsugaya had nothing with which to counter him.

"Now this is just bad form. Not even one lil' insult?"

"You said you wouldn't touch her," rumbled the low, coarse reply. His voice wasn't much louder than a whisper, but in the echoing nothingness it traveled well.

"I didn' lay a finger on her. Why touch her when Shinsou has a longer reach?" Ichimau countered easily, taking another step forward over the nonexistent floor.

Hitsugaya Toushirou, former captain of the Tenth Division, slowly raised his arms, stretching them out in front of himself and creating a diamond shape with his thumbs an pointer fingers. Ichimaru's chest was in the very center of the diamond, though he didn't seem to care. At this point, Hitsugaya didn't care about what Ichimaru cared about.

This was the end, wasn't it? He didn't know what Ichimau planned to gain, what he wanted to do, why he wanted to do any of it. He didn't know, and he didn't care. In this situation, there was only one thing he had to do.

Survive.

That was all that mattered.

"I won't touch you either," Hitsugaya asserted through a pained grimace. "Hadou #33: Soukatsui!"

When nothing happened, Ichimaru laughed.

Then, he moved.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Four End_


	26. Pieces of You

For anyone interested, I put up a poll concerning which story you guys think I should start writing next. The options in the poll are the stories listed in my profile as being future possibilities, so you can read the summaries there to help you decide which sounds best. Hopefully if I get enough of a head start on it, I can have several chapters written before I begin posting it, meaning I'll actually be able to uphold an update schedule of some sort.

Alright. I've blabbed enough, so here it is. The second to last chapter. I hope it lives up to expectations.

* * *

"_Must not all things at the last be swallowed up in death?"_

_-Plato_

_

* * *

_

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Pieces of You

* * *

Hitsugaya cursed to himself.

Again and again and again.

Then he dodged a deadly blow and cursed to himself some more.

He hadn't been there long, but he could already tell how hopeless the situation was. Ichimaru was armed, powerful, and on the offensive. Hitsugaya was separated from Hyourinmaru, weak from exhaustion, and on the run. He couldn't hope to come out of this battle as a victor, only alive. And even the chances of that seemed slim.

There was some sort of time limit. He'd discerned that much from Ichimaru's actions. He was fast in everything he did, from his taunts to his attacks. He was obviously trying to accomplish something quickly, unlike the other times they'd met in this darkness when the man had taken his time with his mind games. What the end of that allotted time meant, Hitsugaya could only guess.

No. Guessing was pointless now. Thinking was pointless. All he could do was ask himself questions as he let his instincts take over.

Ichimaru swung the short blade expertly in constant, consecutive strikes. Hitsugaya had discovered that the nonexistent ground was only there when he wanted it to be, much like using houhou to walk on air. That discovery was the only reason he was still alive, and he'd used it to avoid those swift, playful attacks more than once. The likelihood of finding something else he could use to his advantage was so minute that he didn't even consider it. He only dropped down further into the abyss, watching as several white hairs floated in his peripheral vision, separated from his head by Shinsou's blade.

Kidou was useless. Here, in this place, he'd once again lost all consciousness of his own reiatsu. He'd sworn he'd felt it, had been positive that he would be able to harness it, but when the time came to unleash it, it simply hadn't come. It was frightening. Not at all like the out of control aura he'd radiated because of the condition that ravaged his body. His reiatsu, like Hyourinmaru, simply wasn't there anymore. Gone. As if it had never been there in the first place.

Where had it gone? Where had Hyourinmaru gone? He jerked to the left as Shinsou elongated into a violet stab. It nicked his ear. Hot blood rolled around the fleshy lobe and down his neck, but he paid it no mind. He didn't have the time. This place, whatever it was, locked him away from everything he normally used to protect himself.

It occurred to him in a passing moment, as he slipped down and to the left of the oncoming blade, that this situation was familiar. His muscle memory kicked in and told him it was a little like running from Ishida Ryuuken's arrows. The realization made him want to strangle someone. A very particular someone.

Damn that bastard Urahara to hell and back. That one passing moment, that single observation, gave him an idea. A horrible, unrefined, and suicidal idea. And he was going to blame everything bad that happened because of it on that ridiculous man and his bucket hat. Somehow, he'd known something. He may not have known exactly what would happen, but he had definitely known something. And maybe, just maybe, Hitsugaya would survive this mess because of it.

He pushed back, leaping as far away from Ichimaru as he could, glaring daggers at the man as he smiled.

"Yer breathin' pretty hard, little taichou."

Determined not to give anything away, Hitsugaya just let himself breathe, inhale and exhale, his chest rising and falling in time with Ichimaru's clattering footsteps. He had to stall as long as he could, until he could sway the battle the way he wanted. He couldn't allow Ichimaru to realize what he was thinking, and that meant that he had to work up to it at a believable pace. Diving in straight away would be disastrous.

"It ain't like ya ta take all this without threatenin' me. Ain't as fun when I don' get to hear yer angry voice."

"What do you want, Ichimaru?"

"Already told ya. Entertainment."

"No."

Ichimaru paused, thin brows rising as his smirk widened dangerously, anticipating Hitsugaya's words as if he already knew what they'd be.

"What do you want _from me_?"

"I want," the maniacal snake replied, shooting forward until the tip of his nose was no more than a few centimeters from Hitsugaya's, Shinsou pulled back for a strike, "a boom."

Before the younger could analyze those words for their deeper meaning, he was dodging Shinsou once more.

"Time ta pay up!"

"I don't owe you anything!" Hitsugaya countered savagely, his harsh tone echoing off of nonexistent barriers.

"Then who do ya owe, little taichou?"

The question caught Hitsugaya by surprise, eliciting a hasty gasp. His concentration was thrown off for no more than a second, but a second was all Ichimaru needed.

"_Ikorose_, Shinsou."

A brilliant white flash signaled the blade's sudden growth right toward Hitsugaya's heart. The smaller shinigami had little time to react, his muscles moving faster than his thoughts. But he didn't dodge. The impact was loud, and Hitsugaya was thrown back several yards before finally coming to a stop. One hand was wrapped tightly, painfully over Shinsou's edge, blood leaking down his arm as Hitsugaya Toushirou took several deep breaths.

He'd stopped the blade just before it reached his chest.

In between breaths, he asserted, "Whatever ... and whoever I owe ... I'll repay them in full ... when I defeat you here!"

His opponent made a muffled noise, a foreign combination of a choke and a laugh, before those brilliant blue irises made another fearful debut. They stood out like neon signs in the nothingness.

In that same instant, he spread his arm in an unholy arc. Shinsou jerked upward and to the right before shrinking back to its original size, blood soaring through the air as the metal snake took two of Hitsugaya's fingers with it.

The wild eyed defector didn't give his prey time to recover from the loss, nor did he say anything more as his mad grin led the rest of him into a swift and silent charge. Some things were simply understood best without words.

* * *

"It's not working!"

"I can see that," Unohana Retsu countered patiently, her tone laced with deadly sweetness. Her hands remained over the small boy's chest, releasing reiatsu in vast quantities, but still the expected symptoms did not come. Hitsugaya Toushiro's body was not dying; it was still connected to his mind.

Mastumoto, Kurosaki, Kuchiki, and Abarai were jumpier than the newest of recruits, every little noise and twitch causing them all to leap out of their skins. Kurosaki at least had the peace of mind to keep switching out the water. Hot or cold, whichever was most necessary at the time, Unohana had it, and Hitsugaya was drenched in it. The other three had been content to stand to the side and watch the master healer work, but when ten minutes had passed and there was still no sign of progress, they had become much more vocal.

"Why isn't it working?" Rangiku persisted.

"Something must be resisting her. Please let her work without further interruption," Rukia replied sternly, though her gaze never left Unohana and her patient.

The Tenth Division fukutaichou paced, tapped her foot, stood rooted firmly in place, rubbed her arms. Two minutes later, she was asking again.

"What's wrong?"

"Matsumoto..."

"Oi, his fingers are turning purple!" Renji stepped in, and all eyes found their way to Hitsugaya's right hand. His pinky and ring finger were indeed discolored.

Matsumoto wanted to vomit. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Unohana replied, her tone just as clipped as her movements, "that his mind believes they are no longer there."

The buxom woman leaned over one of the water basins, but nothing came from her drying throat. She was almost disappointed, as if puking would have somehow made the situation better. But as her grip tightened over the edge of the basin, she was able to force herself into a tense and alert calm, and she could feel her wits returning to her. Just in time, too, as Unohana spoke up again.

"My reiatsu isn't reaching him. Something is absorbing it before it reaches its destination."

"Hitsugaya-tai-" began Renji before he was cut off.

"Is not on this plane, Abarai-fukutaichou."

"Then who is?" Rukia bit at her fingernail.

The answer came from the least likely source, as Kurosaki Ichigo's eyes widened in comprehension. "Hyourinmaru!"

The healer nodded, the green glow that had surrounded her hands ceasing immediately. "Kurosaki-san, please hand Hyourinmaru to me."

"But why would Hitsugaya-taichou's zanpakutou stop Unohana-taichou from helping him?" the tattooed redhead persisted.

"How would I understand a zanpakutou's motives? Stop asking stupid questions, Renji!" his petite companion bit back.

"It's not stupid! Rangiku's captain is-"

"Excuse me!" the substitute shinigami hollered just in time for both Rukia and Renji to be smacked in the head by opposite sides of the unnaturally long weapon.

As the two of them rubbed at their sore craniums, Unohana Retsu accepted Hyourinmaru and unsheathed it. Everyone knew what was going to come next, but somehow knowing made it more unbelievable. Silence - stiff and strong - invaded the space as the most superior officer in the room raised someone else's zanpakutou and plunged it into its owner's heart. The blade passed through him, into the mattress, and out the bottom of the bed. Crackling sounds were soon heard as jagged ice began to spread from the impact point until Hitsugaya Toushirou's entire body was encased in the crystalline shards.

Unohana hadn't hesitated, ruthlessly accurate and without doubt. She swiped the back of her hand against her forehead, and that was the first time that Matsumoto Rangiku realized the woman was sweating.

She couldn't stay in this room.

"Tea. I'm going to start some tea, for when he wakes up," Rangiku informed them as she hastily made her exit.

Renji tried to follow, but Ichigo held him back. "He's gonna need a change of clothes too," he reminded the Sixth Division fukutaichou as his eyes trailed to where Rukia still stood, her thumb nail bitten down as far as it could be without drawing blood.

Renji gave him a hard look, but then he nodded, dragging Rukia along with him.

"You do remember you're under house arrest," Unohana sighed once she and Kurosaki were the only two left.

"You gonna stop them?" he retorted before grabbing a chair and dragging it loudly across the room to Hitsugaya's bedside. "I should be enough, right? They won't leave the Fourth Division."

She was silent for a moment before shaking her head. "Please tell Matsumoto-fukutaichou that I would like some tea as well."

* * *

It wasn't painful so much as distracting. It hurt like hell, but Hitsugaya had dealt with much worse. And so his right hand freely bled, only three fingers remaining. The others had quickly lost themselves to the abyss. That was okay; he could work with this. He could still do what he needed to do. It wasn't as if he had a sword to hold anyway.

Ichimaru stabbed his blade downward, catching the boy's haori, but he wriggled out of the symbolic fabric, closing the distance before shoving his left palm up into the bottom of Shinsou's hilt in an attempt to force it out of Ichimaru's hands. It didn't work, demonstrated when he was sent flying backward by a knee to his chest. He would have simply kept falling if he hadn't regained his wits enough to stand on the stale air.

As he was getting back up, his own haori met his face. He ducked to the left and ran the second his vision was obscured, narrowly missing a beheading at the hands of the hungry snake before him. He nearly tripped over his own two feet but struggled on. The only reason he was even staying balanced was that he never stopped moving. The moment it felt as if his legs would give out, he just pressed forward. But he couldn't keep this up forever. He had to figure out a way to harm Ichimaru Gin while unarmed.

Well, the bastard had returned his haori to him. Might as well put it to use.

* * *

When Tatsuki entered the familiar underground training facility, she wasn't surprised to find Orihime punching and kicking at the air. The girl had great form, though no one would ever guess, not even Orihime herself.

"Orihime..." she trailed off as she came closer. "You should be home."

Her close friend instantly stopped, turning to face her with glassy eyes and quivering lips. "They wouldn't let me help him. I have to get stronger! I have to get stronger so that I can help everyone! Kurosaki-kun can do it, so why can't I?"

Tatsuki took hold of the sniffling girl's shoulders before pulling her into a half-hug. "Anything Ichigo can do, you can do better. You just ... need someone around to show you the way that's best for you."

"...That's what Kuchiki-san is to him, right?" Orihime whispered, melting into Tatsuki's embrace.

"Maybe," the darker girl sighed.

Orihime looked up then, tears finally welling over. "So who can be mine?"

The smallest of smiles played across Tatsuki's lips before she grabbed onto Orihime's wrist and squeezed, pulling back from their close contact. "Well, since you're already here and all, maybe I should teach you this neat trick I learned a while back. It'll probably help you with those shields of yours."

* * *

Using as much strength as he could muster, Hitsugaya pressed forward, gripping his haori tightly in his uninjured hand. He leaped into the air, landing atop Shinsou's blade mid-swipe as he flung his other hand right in front of Ichimaru's face. Blood went flying into squinting eyes, and Ichimaru staggered backward, caught momentarily off guard.

The younger shinigami was not about to miss his chance.

Pushing Shinsou downward, he jumped right over Ichimaru's head and landed behind him, flinging his haori around the traitor's left knee and catching it with his injured hand. He ducked low, yanking Ichimaru's knee backward while kicking his ankle forward. The resounding crack echoed loudly against nonexistent walls.

Even from behind, Hitsugaya could feel the change in the atmosphere. Ichimaru Gin wasn't smiling anymore.

Before Hitsugaya could move out of the way, Shinsou came barreling through Ichimaru's clothing, moving upward in a perfect arc that sliced through thigh, ribs, and elbow without bias.

* * *

"This whole thing smells rotten."

Shinji turned to face the aggravated girl in pigtails, a sly smile growing across his lips. She was sitting off to the side while everyone else was either helping Rose with fixing dinner or trying to talk Rose out of fixing dinner. He prodded her in the back of the head with his foot.

"Worried about that burst o' reiatsu a while ago?" he sneered.

She grabbed his foot without turning around and yanked, grinning in satisfaction when she heard a loud crack. "I wasn't talking about that damn shinigami. I was talking about dinner."

"Not surprisin'. S'Rose's turn. We'll just wait 'til he's sleepin', and grab some take-out."

"Che," she croaked. "He's as good as dead anyway."

Blowing a strand of hair out of his face, Shinji pulled himself up and brought his feet down over her head as a foot rest. "He's not _that_ bad a cook. Not as bad as you anyway."

She leaned forward, kicking her foot back in between his legs. He doubled over. "I wasn't talking about dinner. I was talking about that damn shinigami."

It took a while before Shinji regained his voice enough to reply, but when he did, he wrapped his legs around her neck and flung her down to the ground with him. "He owes us. He won't die."

Hiyori quickly followed through by biting his ankle. "How d'ya figure?"

"If a shinigami captain is desperate enough to come to _us_ for help… Well," the vaizard chuckled as he rammed his other foot into her jaw, "what else is he willin' to do to stick around?"

Reaching back, she tightly grasped both of his wrists and rammed him into the ground in front of her. "He's just asking for a beating!"

Shinji readjusted his cap. "Shinigami always do."

"I wasn't talking about the damn shinigami. I was talking about dinner."

The golden haired former captain of the Fifth Division of the Gotei 13 promptly turned around to see Rose lavishing a pot with a mixture of salsa, peanut butter, and celery.

Alright. Rose was never getting a turn again.

* * *

That had not been part of the plan.

Hitsugaya Toushirou wheezed painfully as he tried to stand, his left side soaked in blood. His entire left forearm had been rendered unusable, the cut into his elbow deep enough to leave the nerves severed. His ribs were a disconnected mess, and there was definitely organ damage, lung most likely. A shinigami could take a lot more than a human, but it was a miracle that he was able to stand at all, especially the way his thigh burned under the pressure.

He could barely stand. There was no way in hell he would be able to run.

Ichimaru's approaching footsteps, uneven because of Hitsugaya's small success, summoned something within his gut, and he forced his battered body forward, one leg and then the other. Muscles, tendons, and bones shrieked in agony, but he was silent. He couldn't afford to waste any part of his mind or body on speaking. Even in this condition, he could do it. He would do it.

Those foreboding foot falls came to a halt when the antagonistic man realized that Hitsugaya was walking toward him. Not away from him but toward him. One step at a time, oozing blood, breathing heavily with every slight movement. The boy was very carefully, very painfully walking to his death.

"Still so stubborn, little captain?" he cooed.

Hitsugaya still said nothing, only taking another excruciating step toward his attacker.

"Hopin' fer a miracle?"

One more step forward.

"Refusin' ta say 'Uncle'?"

One more step forward.

Finally, Ichimaru Gin's face once again erupted in a manic smirk. This was too perfect. The little brat really wasn't giving up. He would never give up. No matter the odds, he was going to push forward until he could no longer move a single muscle in his body. The man could feel the tension in the air rising, and he reveled in it.

This was it, the defining moment. Two weeks of torture, mind games, and observation had led up to these next two minutes.

"Ready ta die?"

Hitsugaya's head shot upward, fierce teal glaring into excited slits. When he did manage to speak, his voice was rasped, a breathy, hoarse whisper.

"I dare you."

Ichimaru didn't waste another second. Shinsou elongated, the deadly metal shooting right through Hitsugaya's chest and out the smalls of his back.

* * *

"Boo!"

Urahara Kisuke, perhaps the only man who'd ever managed to become infamous in every dimension, jumped into the air in shock when Isshin reached down to take the empty cup out of his hands.

"Isshin…?"

"The girls are watching tv with Ururu and Jinta," the grim father replied as he replaced the empty cup with a full one. "I've been walking around the place for a good fifteen minutes, and you haven't budged an inch."

Kisuke laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. "It's funny, isn't it? How us old fogies are left with nothing to do but think while the kids finish all of our dirty work."

"What has you so wound up now?" Isshin sighed, taking a sip from his own mug.

"That sad bag of an arrancar summed it up nicely. She said that I wouldn't stop this because I wanted to see the outcome just as badly as Aizen and Ichimaru," he grinned darkly. "And now here we are, waiting to see that outcome."

"Well," the other man began wryly, "do you want to see it?"

A fatal gleam flashed across the man's deep eyes. "Very much so."

"Then I'm sure it'll be spectacular."

He raised his mug into the air, and after a moment of contemplation, Urahara followed suit.

"To Hitsugaya Toushirou. May he go out with a bang."

* * *

The blood soaked, beaten shinigami had no choice but to hold his three remaining useable fingers over Shinsou's blade, pushing his palm down on the unforgiving metal to make sure that his shaking body rose with the weapon. His insides wouldn't take another slashing. He'd be dead before he hit the ground.

His feet dangled as Ichimaru continued to slowly raise his weapon, letting it shrink in length just as slowly until the two shinigami were about two meters apart, facing each other eye to eye.

And just when Ichimaru thought Hitsugaya might have simply died with his expression locked in that stare, bloody lips upturned into a self-satisfied smirk.

His palm clasped the blade tighter, mindless of further bloodshed. He pictured a current of water surrounding his body, diverting the flow into his arm as if there were a marble-sized whirlpool in his fist. Slowly but surely a pale blue light began to grow around Shinsou.

Ichimaru watched in awe, neon irises exposed to the world.

"_Souten ni zase_," Hitsugaya rasped, "Hyourinmaru!"

The light burst around his fist, forming jagged batches of ice along the blade. Then formed the head, the heated red eyes, the merciless gnashing teeth. Over Ichimaru's hands, his arms, his body, his face – the ice spread everywhere. The layers built up thicker and sharper as they grew outward, enveloping the entire dimension of space. The intense dragon that formed was larger than usual, shooting above Hitsugaya's head before crashing down, jaw unhinged, upon its little fox lunch.

With one final roar - Ichimaru, Shinsou, the nothingness – it all shattered, shards of ice and glass berating him as the zanpakutou holding him in the air was no more, and he plunged into the endless white expanse below.

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Five End_


	27. Reflections

I can't believe I just did this. I just wrote the last chapter to Treading Icy Waters. I think I'm in shock. You people are all awesome, and I love you.

* * *

"_When what we are is what we want to be, that's happiness."_

_-Malcolm Forbes_

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Reflections

* * *

"Continue."

Hitsugaya remained silent for some time despite the commanding prompt, distracted by the shifting of fabric somewhere behind him and to his right. He wouldn't look, couldn't really, but it was difficult to focus when that sort of reminder followed his every pause.

Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni towered before him in the dimly lit conference room, the other captains lined up in their designated rows and only visible in his peripheral vision. He could feel them though, even if he couldn't see them. Nine expectant stares, nine accusing frowns, nine impatient egos. They were all waiting for him to finish his explanation, waiting for him to acknowledge the Genryuusai's command and continue spewing detail after detail of his own personal, _private_ experience. He had known this would come; it was inevitable, and he'd been prepared from the beginning. Now that the time was here, however, he found himself unsure of how to proceed. He had known that justifying his actions in this way would give him the largest chance of a pardon, especially since Ichimaru and Aizen were involved, but after all he'd seen and heard, was justifying his actions to these people really what he wanted to do?

Matsumoto wasn't here. Kurosaki wasn't here. Urahara, Shihouin, Abarai, Kuchiki. Arisawa, Inoue, Kojima, Karin. No one who had experienced those trials first hand in Karakura was here. Why should he justify himself to _these_ people?

He had never felt the lack of his haori more prominently than he did now. He recognized that it was just another way for them to isolate him from the people of authority who surrounded him, the former equals who surrounded him, but the understanding made no difference. It was an effective tactic, and it made him appropriately uncomfortable. An animal to be gawked at and questioned from afar.

"Then I woke up."

He met Yamamoto face to face, drilling his stare up into those hard and empty eyes. The following silence was tense, and even though the soutaichou didn't so much as blink, Hitsugaya could tell the man knew he was hiding something. That didn't stop him from hiding it.

"By then, Hyourinmaru could communicate with me. The ice broke away, and Unohana-taichou was able to heal my injuries. I awoke eleven hours later in the Fourth Division compound and am still undergoing therapy to retain the use of my fingers."

Undetailed though it was, he hoped that it would satisfy the Genryuusai. The actual details of that day were simply something he would prefer to keep to himself.

* * *

It was cold.

The kind of cold that came from stepping out of the bath and into the winter air. More than anything, it was a little ticklish, making him shiver from the unexpected flood to his five senses.

He knew with sharp clarity that he was awake - really, truly awake. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but he was finally certain that he was in no pocket dimension in another man's soul. The air was fresh and flowing, and he could feel a window square of sunlight beating on his shuttered eyelids. He smelled the lingering odor of a scented candle - almond? - and heard the shuffling of many feet in the distance. The familiar, wrinkled bedsheets beneath him told him he was in the Fourth Division.

He was back in Seireitei. When had that happened?

Trying to recall his last moments in the waking world proved difficult. They were a blurred and hazy mess of pain and incomprehension. Oh, wait. Matsumoto and Kurosaki. They had been there. They had definitely been there, which meant they couldn't be far now.

Slowly he opened his eyes, letting them adjust to the light. He blinked once or twice and breathed a small sigh of relief at recognizing the room. It really was one of the rooms in the Fourth Division compound.

"Ah, you're awake!"

What little of Hitsugaya's mind that had begun turning again abruptly stopped at the sound of that voice. He hadn't heard it in two weeks at least. Hastily, he propped himself up onto his elbows in order to get a better look at his surroundings. There were flowers and even a pile of sweets scattered about the room, but only one other person was with him.

"Hina... Hinamori."

The petite girl sitting beside his bed was skinny and pale, with bags under her eyes and her dark hair limp from grease. But what caught Hitsugaya's attention was her smile. She was looking down at him, hands in her lap and eyes closed, with the saddest smile he'd ever seen. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare, caught between the shock of Hinamori visiting him and her agonizing expression.

Apparently, this only served to make her nervous, and she looked down in embarrassment, waving her hands in front of her face. "I-If you don't want me here, I'll leave. I just- I wanted- I'm sorry," she mumbled a million miles a minute as she stood up and motored toward the exit.

"Hinamori," Hitsugaya ground out again.

He had never been adept at long speeches or charismatic profoundness, and right now, he couldn't even manage more than her name, but he refused to break off his penetrating stare, meeting her back with a sort of prideful pleading. She had always been the one he didn't need to explain things to. He hoped beyond hope that that hadn't changed because he knew for sure that she was still the one who didn't need to explain things to him.

She stopped just before she reached the door, turning to glance sheepishly at the boy two sizes too small for his bed. After another moment, her hesitance faded to be replaced with a quiet determination, and she bowed.

"Please, let me apologize."

"Hinamori, you don't have to-"

"I know!" she interrupted, her voice carrying a hint of desperation before she stumbled back into her half-whisper. "I-I know. I have nothing to apologize for. You already forgave me. I know. B-But I want to do it anyway. Please."

He could only nod, propping himself up against the bed frame. With a gulp, she straightened herself and took a deep, calming breath. Hitsugaya couldn't help but wonder how many times she'd practiced what she was about to say in her mind.

"Wh-When you left, I really made a mess of things. I got angry with a lot of people who didn't do anything wrong, and I hurt Matsumoto-san. I knew … that if it was you, Hitsugaya-kun, you would never leave me behind, and so I blamed everyone else for taking you away. It wasn't until I heard that Matsumoto-san was going to the living world to find you that … that I realized that if I really thought that was true, I wouldn't have been so upset about it." A treacherous tear formed at the corner of her eye. "After everything you've done for me, I still doubted you when it mattered most."

She looked up, no longer holding back that tear as her eyes took on a frantic glow.

"I wanted to go with Matsumoto-san to make it up to you. My request was denied though, b-because my fits had pushed back my recovery, and the Soutaichou said I wasn't fit to be returned to duty. I couldn't support you when you needed it because I was too selfish. I was too stupid to see the most obvious thing..."

A sniffle signaled her next pause as she took a moment to regain what composure she could. This was all well and good, seeing as Hitsugaya's mental processing was still about two sentences behind.

"But once I realized my mistake, I couldn't get upset again. I knew that would just make things worse, so... I've been trying really hard to heal as best as I can. I-I wanted to be fully recovered for when you came back, but I didn't quite make it. Unohana-taichou let me start walking outside yesterday though! And I've been doing paperwork for the Fifth and Tenth Divisions while I've been stuck inside! Because I really wanted to be of help somehow, and I thought...

"Ah, um... But the point is, I'm really sorry!"

Once more, she swung down for a hasty bow, her hair nearly touching the ground before she shot back up. She was certainly more lively than the last time he'd seen her, and now that sad smile she'd worn earlier, even though it was wrought with tears, was just a little happier.

"And I really, really missed you. Hitsugaya-taichou."

Finally, Hitsugaya's brain caught up with Hinamori's heartfelt speech. Just in time for his jaw to drop. Hinamori had just... But the shock was followed by guilt at his last words to her, and his eyes narrowed, jaw set.

"Hinamori, I didn't-"

"Yes, Shirou-chan?" she asked brightly.

For the second time in all of two seconds, his jaw hit the floor.

"Don't call me _Shirou-chan_!"

"Ah! Taichou! You're awake!" Any hope he'd had for some peace and quiet was dashed as Matsumoto gallivanted through the door, tea in hand, and bypassed Hinamori in order to splay out on top of him in a poor, suffocating excuse for a hug. "You're okay!"

"He won't be if you do that, Matsumoto-san!" Hinamori scolded as she tried to pry the over-excited fukutaichou off of her captain.

But even as he struggled desperately for air while simultaneously trying to make sure she didn't spill the tea, Hitsugaya Toushirou couldn't help but feel at home for the first time in weeks.

* * *

The Captain Commander appeared far from pleased with the curt conclusion of Hitsugaya's story, but at the same time, he also seemed impatient to move on. Hitsugaya had an idea of why, and it didn't inspire any confidence.

"Very well," the elder finally acquiesced while Hitsugaya bowed his head in anticipation of the "but" to follow. "Though I have received reports that you, Hitsugaya Toushirou, have also discovered vital information concerning the traitor Aizen Sousuke, not only Ichimaru Gin."

The unspoken accusation of withholding information did not go unnoticed, but the young shinigami refused to show any weakness just yet.

"It only indirectly concerns Aizen," he began coolly, head still low and eyes closed in a strained attempt at calmness. That was the first thing he had to get out of the way - lower expectations immediately, dispel ridiculous rumors. "My ability to sense reiatsu was drastically altered following the initial attack. By the time a week had passed, I was almost unable to perceive it - my own or others' - and I was unable to control my own. When others attacked me, however, that changed.

"When their reiatsu penetrated my own, my reiatsu instinctively flared in order to provide protection. The combination of the two created a completely different feeling surrounding me." He snorted, cocking his head in grudgingly amused remembrance. "As someone else described to me, reiatsu is similar to smell. When you have only one scent surrounding you for a prolonged period, you eventually stop recognizing it. The moment another scent is introduced, however, your mind processes it again." The boy looked up. "During that moment of change, I used my attacker's spiritual pressure to indirectly control my own. The location of their reiatsu told me exactly how far mine extended. In that way, I was able to reign it in and condense it.

"Then I had only to release my hold and let it react instinctively."

Anyone who didn't know him better might have accused him of smirking as he spoke that final sentence, but he wasn't as smug as he was challenging. He dared anyone in the room to state exactly what he'd just related might mean.

It was Komamura who did it. "You mean to say the connection is only that you could possibly do the same to Aizen himself."

Hitsugaya straightened himself out as tall as he could manage. "If Aizen's reiatsu were to penetrate my own, I would be able to use my reiatsu in order to pinpoint Aizen's true location."

"Anyone with proper control could do this, isn't that so?" intoned Kuchiki, ever the skeptic.

"No. Only I could," Hitsugaya insisted to a chorus of expectant unbelievers. "Because I've already done it."

The hall erupted, at least five people trying to talk at once, and was instantly silenced by the slamming of Yamamoto's cane. Hitsugaya hadn't even had time to decipher what they were so up in arms about - the fact that he insisted he was the only one capable or the fact that he'd already accomplished it.

"Explain," the elder demanded.

"The dimension within Ichimaru's soul was itself an illusion that Aizen had created," Hitsugaya humored him, having to put effort into not allowing a superior tone escape his lips. Despite his bleak situation, he still garnered satisfaction from having even this small upper hand.

"How do you know this?"

"Ichimaru told me."

* * *

An unpleasant smell met Hitsugaya's nostrils, and he felt something poking against his barely parted lips. Everything hurt, from his fingers to his toes, and he felt far too heavy, as if gravity was pushing him toward the earth with twice its usual fervor. It was only after this conclusion that he realized he was lying on the ground. Something warm and sticky surrounded him. A painful attempt to open his eyes to the foggy world around him informed him that it was red.

As his brain slowly began to register complete thoughts, he was able to piece things together. Blood. He was lying in a pool of his own blood. His body hurt because there was a gaping hole right through the middle of it. That was a lot of blood, even for a shinigami. He vaguely wondered if it was enough to drown himself if he couldn't lift his head soon.

Oh yeah, speaking of his head, there was something in front of his face, wasn't there? His vision still refused to focus, but the incessant poking hadn't gone away. The distraction was making it even harder to collect his thoughts.

Forming sentences wasn't an option, so the disoriented shinigami offered a low growl instead. As universally understood as a kick to the groin, or at least easy enough to understand that the poking ceased, and whatever was in his personal space pulled away.

"Yer so mean. Not like Ran-chan at all. I don' think I'll ever understand what she sees in ya."

Hitsugaya ignored the voice and its owner, a task made all the easier to accomplish by the fact that he didn't really understand it. Instead, he glared at the horizon line straight ahead, trying to find something, anything on which to concentrate so that he could focus his vision.

Time and effort revealed to him a thin white panel. Moving outward from that spot, he realized the ornately decorated panel was one fourth of the frame surrounding a full-size mirror. This mirror was situated next to another, slightly different in shape and size but still for the most part the same. This mirror stood beside another and another and another as far as Hitsugaya's eyesight carried him without moving his head. Beneath him, beneath the gradually hardening rock of dark red, was another mirror. The floor itself was entirely reflective. Everything. Everything as far as the eye could see was nothing but white and mirrors.

And then there was Ichimaru Gin.

"If I had ta hazard a guess," the other man smirked, wagging a dried persimmon in his hand before proceeding to eat it, "I'd say it's 'cos ya remind her so much o' me."

Wait, no. Hitsugaya squinted through the color contrasts. Ichimaru wasn't a man. He didn't look any older than Hitsugaya himself, and the clothing he wore was that of Rukongai, not Seireitei.

His battered state must have left him glaringly transparent because Ichimaru picked up on his confusion instantly. "Surprised?" he taunted, crouching back down inches from Hitsugaya's prone form. "Well, ya did manage quite a bit o' work there. That was a sight, watchin' that illusion shatter. They're right when they say ya've got potential. Too bad it's just that, ne? Guess it's no wonder ya'd be out like a light."

"What-?" Hitsugaya just managed to croak.

Ichimaru cocked his head curiously. "Ya don' remember? Ya _broke_ it, little taichou. Ya broke the whole damn world."

Like a jolt to his brain, suddenly it came back to him. The game and the nothingness. Everything shattering. Falling.

Well, apparently he'd landed.

"Ah, there ya go." A small chuckle. "I asked Aizen ta set that place up a long time ago, but I didn' need it anymore. Thanks fer helpin' me renovate."

Hitsugaya's breath hitched, just enough adrenaline surging through his malnourished veins for him to finally lift his head, his rasping voice sharp and guttural. "Aizen-"

"What? Ya thought that was me, my world? Yer not a very good judge o' character, are ya? There's only one man empty 'nough to make a world like that, only one man empty 'nough ta want everyone else ta feel the same."

Without warning, Ichimaru stood up and reached for Hitsugaya's midsection. The wounded shinigami yelped in surprise and pain, but he could do nothing as he was lifted unceremoniously onto his host's shoulders. He heaved, bending over from the sensation as his injuries twisted and turned and folded in on themselves.

"Aw, quit yer whinin'. Ya can' die here. Jus' take a look around. This is the real deal. Our old huntin' grounds were an illusion I asked Aizen ta set up decades ago."

"Why...?"

"Hn? Ain't it obvious?" the other boy asked with a bright, warm smile. "I hate it here."

Lost. So lost. Endlessly lost. Pain, dizziness, and incomprehension ruled Hitsugaya's mind as he tried to process what the hell was going on, but it just wasn't working out. Refusing to lay his head down on Ichimaru's own, however, he forced himself straight through sheer willpower, taking another dazed look around the space.

Upon further inspection, it was clear this wasn't an open space. It was a room, a cube with six sides. A world walled in with only reflections for company.

"Didja know, little taichou, that there's a story in the livin' realm 'bout a little girl who went through the lookin' glass into another world? She had all sorts o' interestin' adventures. Humans really like ta look at their own reflections, don' they?

"I hate it. The only thing ya see when ya look in a mirror is what everybody else sees ya as. And ya should know better'n anyone, right?" Ichimaru offered a snide jab at Hitsugaya's knee. "Everybody else sees something completely different from the real thing."

Hitsugaya took a deep breath.

"Thanks ta ya, I can finally see my reflection again." His voice seemed to reverberate throughout the whole room. "An' now I can finally crush it."

He looked up to meet Hitsugaya eye to eye, the harshness never leaving his callous words. "It was a good game, ne? I made sure ta give ya just 'nough hope that ya didn' lose yer marbles. That's how a game should work. Ya gotta give both sides a fair chance.

"Ya think I managed it?"

Hitsugaya just wanted to vomit. By now he'd realized that what Ichimaru was saying was important, and he was hanging off of every word. It was arduous though, when every word made him violently ill.

"Memorize the feelin', little taichou. Ya broke a whole damn world. Don' forget how it felt. Ya'll break a lot o' things someday soon. S'what yer best at, after all."

Hitsugaya's grip tightened at the base of Ichimaru's neck.

"Though I do hafta wonder... What does someone like ya see when _you_ look in the mirror?"

The instant the words were out of his mouth, the empty space before Hitsugaya's eyes was filled by a mirror. Three more at the sides and at his back. Overhead, underfoot. The entire room seemed to be moving in, working to suffocate him as he tried to struggle his way out of Ichimaru's hold. His captor was unaffected, but somehow Hitsugaya knew he was in danger. He had to get away, close his eyes, wake up.

He couldn't.

All he saw was a mirror image of himself. Bruised, bleeding, pale, tired, scared.

The sound of cackling filled his head as his surroundings dissolved. The white was blinding.

But somehow, even as the light burned his eyes through his eyelids, the feeling was infinitely more acceptable than the one he'd felt for that single second he'd seen his own eyes before him.

Defeat.

* * *

"And when could he possibly have told you, if after you destroyed the illusion you awoke in the Fourth?"

Hitsugaya had been silent as the others had discussed the likelihood of any truth coming out of Ichimaru's mouth, quietly trying to remember every word Ichimaru had spoken. He'd done the same several times every day since he'd regained consciousness. He couldn't allow himself to forget. While the game had been ongoing, everything the man said had been in question, but in that room... In that room, surrounded by hundreds of their own eyes looking critically back at them, Hitsugaya was certain every word had been truth.

"In a dream."

The answer was calm, unrepentant, and so painfully insincere that the Captain Commander and everyone else in the room was aware he was purposely not telling the whole truth. But he wasn't lying either. He couldn't lie here, not in this sacred place. That didn't mean he had to tell everyone everything.

He said little else for the duration of the meeting. Most of their discussion wasn't even about him. He held his anxiety at arm's length, never letting it escape but never letting it take control either. After weeks of fighting for control, fighting for any semblance of power or chance, this was nothing in comparison.

At least, that was what he told himself.

In the end, his actions were deemed acceptable for his situation. Hitsugaya knew that only meant the war against Aizen was more important. He wasn't complaining.

The announcement itself was anti-climactic, leaving Hitsugaya to feel more tired than excited. He was only half paying attention as he wandered slowly out of the hall. Enough captains had passed him that he was confident he was the last, and only once he came to this conclusion did he halt his crawling pace and lift his hand to steady himself on the wall.

The room was not spinning, he told himself, and in a few seconds, he'd be able to walk normally again.

"Hitsugaya-kun!"

The boy all but leaped a foot into the air at the cheerful call, and Ukitake had to catch him by the shoulders before he could have a heart attack. Damn. Had he come back when Hitsugaya hadn't followed the others outside?

"Are you alright?"

When Hitsugaya offered an unconvincing nod, he sighed, letting go so that the youngest captain could once again steady himself.

"I wanted to congratulate you on your reinstatement. Would you join me for tea?"

The older man was patient as his smaller companion took a deep breath and then finally began walking again, keeping up appearances as best as he was able. It hurt Ukitake a little, to know Hitsugaya felt the need to pretend in front of him, but he knew better than to take it to heart. After everything that had happened, Hitsugaya was probably still on alert around everyone.

"I can't," Hitsugaya answered after a moment, looking up to meet Ukitake's gaze. "I've already made plans today."

"You have?" Ukitake blinked stupidly. Maybe his observation had been wrong.

Hitsugaya allowed his expression to morph into a pained scowl, but it was obvious this wasn't physical pain the moment he opened his mouth. "Matsumoto coerced me into a spa visit. Apparently it doesn't count toward our agreement unless I participate fully. When Hinamori found out about it..."

Ukitake stalled, the description so opposite of what he'd expected, so brilliantly typical, so blatantly ridiculous, that he couldn't keep himself from chuckling.

"Ukitake...?"

And then that chuckle became a laugh.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Tomorrow then, once you've had time to relax?" the older man grinned.

"Were you listening?" Hitsugaya drawled. "Between Matsumoto and Hinamori, I won't have a moment of rest."

Another laugh. "You can _relax_ today. You can _rest_ tomorrow. Hm?" he conceded, offering Hitsugaya a pat on the shoulder as he finally passed him and stepped out into the open air. "Ah, by the way. Hitsugaya-kun."

Shading his eyes from the sun, Hitsugaya nodded his acknowledgment as Ukitake turned to face him.

"Trying to stand so straight is only going to make you dizzier."

Hitsugaya instantly flushed, and Ukitake smiled lightly.

"Ceremony is just that. Ceremony. You're among friends, even here. Try to remember that, Hitsugaya-kun. Weariness is not a weakness. It's understanding."

With one last smile and a wave, he left, and Hitsugaya was again alone. Just him and the First Division's decorated fountain.

As Ukitake's words ran themselves through his mind, a thought occurred to him, and he stepped up to the fountain, slowly bending over so that he could see his reflection in the water. It was different than it had been while within Ichimaru's inner world. Cleaner. Absently, he dropped a hand into the water and disrupted it with his fingers, watching as his reflection distorted.

Ichimaru Gin had used him to destroy an obstacle within his soul. The whole elaborate game was nothing more than a ploy. Now Ichimaru was free of some illusion of unknown origin, and the shinigami had yet another possible strategy to use against their enemy Aizen Sousuke.

Ichimaru Gin, Aizen Sousuke's partner, had leveled the playing field willingly. For what? More entertainment? To give them false hopes?

...Because he actually wanted to defeat Aizen?

Weariness was understanding? Ha. This was the furthest from understanding he could get.

Suddenly, his fingers stopped their trek through the water.

"_Thanks ta ya, I can finally see my reflection again." His voice seemed to reverberate throughout the whole room. "An' now I can finally crush it."_

As his own reflection slowly reformed in the pristine water, he stared in awe at his own eyes as they stared back at him, wide and shining and clear.

Maybe, just maybe, it was because Ichimaru Gin saw the same thing he did.

Maybe, just maybe, he wanted to win.

"He's over here! I know it!"

"What? How could you-?"

"It's the boobs, Hinamori. They always lead me straight to him. You'll understand when you're older."

"Rangiku, I don't think... Oh! Hitsugaya-kun, there you are!"

"What'd I tell you? One hundred per cent accurate!"

"It has nothing to do with that! You knew he'd be here because they just had a meeting!"

"Naysayers shall be punished!"

It took all of Hitsugaya's will power not to freeze the whole damn fountain. Instead, he slowly turned to face the familiar voices, finding their source just in time to witness Matsumoto hugging a whimpering Hinamori tightly to her bosom.

"Eh?" Matsumoto glanced at him surprised, and Hinamori was just able to escape. "Taichou? Are you okay?"

He snorted, shutting his eyes and lifting his head as high as he could manage before stomping off to their destination, the two girls at his heels. "I'm fine! Why would you waste your breath on a stupid question like that?"

"For a moment, you just looked..." Hinamori trailed off inquisitively. "Really happy."

He paused, not having expected the accusation. "Hn. Maybe a little."

"Taichou? Are you smiling? Oh, Taichou!" Matsumoto Rangiku gathered up her two younger companions and scrunched them together in a hug. "You're really growing up! Tonight you bathe as a man!"

"MATSUMOTO!"

* * *

_Chapter Twenty-Six End_


End file.
